Black, White and Gray
by Sixth Limb of Sephiroth
Summary: Sephiroth survives the Rebirth Protocol. And he celebrates his triumph with life. When Shinra rears its head once again, however... Well, no holds barred. 'Eventually, all good things must come to an end... isn't that right...'
1. Prologue: One Day

_**Disclaimer: **__**Same old song, same old dance. Ignorant folks fail, fat old chance.**_

…

* * *

_**Black and White and Gray**_

_Hi, Drana speaking here. Just saying hello. I can do that, right? Hello!_

_I really don't have much to say here, actually. I did but... time will change that._

_Time will change things. Funny, isn't it?_

_-----  
_

_**Prologue: One Day**_

My garden was small. But it surely flourished, not too fast, not too slow. Just right. Most of the blossoms had grown up yellow with the occasional red, white or pink thrown in for good measure. Some were tall, others were short. The variety, the vividness. I liked being proud of my budding success, my dream of growing the biggest and best flower garden ever; though I didn't neglect to keep a vegetable patch on the side.

We lived apart from general civilization.

Because of the distance, where trying to get such bare necessities was more often a hassle than not— due to our unfortunate, as I saw it, circumstances of living— I wanted to make sure we were ready for this sort of solitary life, whatever making sure meant for me. A vegetable patch had been the only thing I could think of. Thus, I grew the plants. Sephiroth hunted the meat, although he ate it more than I ever would, that being a 'manly' thing to do. When we actually traveled to town for essentials that even the land couldn't directly give us, we had to be swift and silent in our excursions. As swift and silent as humanly possible. My companion— I used that term loosely— thought it was genius to keep me like some super secret thing, sometimes even dressing me in cloaks for public outings.

I always considered his precaution going a bit overboard, but he'd always explain it to me. Like so:

"One man's treasure... may _also _be another man's treasure. Do no t forget what you are. If others figured out your existence, you would be the perfect tool to their own greedy ends."

"Kind of like you" tended to be my automatic reply. In return, he'd give me one of his catlike stares of death trained to subdue what he called insolence. And even after all the time we'd been together, it still made me cringe.

Nowadays, Sephiroth's ocean green eyes appeared human more often than their inhuman counterparts. He didn't seem as angry at humankind, he didn't seem as anti-social. The man even smiled on certain special occasions, despite whatever his underlying reasons at the time. When he did, though, I felt like my time wasn't a total waste. He was actually growing for the better.

I was proud of him and proud for myself. This was a feat, a major feat, and no matter how hard Sephiroth would glare at me, I thought I had a right to exaggerate my pride.

Aerith agreed.

Lucrecia demurred.

Nameless, indistinguishable faces flickered compliance.

This last year and some odd months had not been a waste.

-----

As I tended to my flowers, I found myself daydreaming of nothings in particular. There was just a shapeless blob of sentiment, but it was colorful, cool, and soothing so I didn't mind. It felt good. Meanwhile, my body moved to the goal of preening the new growth and my mind pandered to the happy, blobby nothing.

I'd been trying to grow additional beds to the original. It was a fairly slow task, but hardly daunting. It felt like a birthright of mine, so I moved well in accordance to everything that needed doing. Tilling the soil, pulling weeds, trimming, watering, seeding. It was all just another part of life for me and I didn't want or need it any other way.

A shadow passed briefly over me. I wouldn't have noticed if I didn't hear the sound of footsteps.

"Drana."

"Mm," I hummed, slipping from my crouch to my knees. Finally comfortable in my new position, I looked up and smiled. "Hello."

Sephiroth's initial expression was forever one of sobriety, but at least it wasn't anger or malice or even annoyance. I waved up at him, which slighted a forced, lopsided grin from his lips. Before he said anything else, he gave my garden a once-over, and then closed his eyes.

"How was Rocket Town?" I asked, taking a moment to pat down some upturned soil.

"It keeps growing," he said mechanically. Apparently he wasn't fond of city expansion.

"I hope you found what you were looking for."

"Pale imitations. I'd have to cross the sea to Wutai to get what I truly want." He threw his hand back in displeasure, then dropped gracefully into a squat right next to me.

"If you do go, can I come with you?"

"Your company wouldn't be necessary."

"But I…" I frowned. "I want to see the world, too. I, I've never been to Wutai, though I've heard things about it. I heard it's very pretty and exotic."

"It is," he said. He patted my head roughly. "But you know the rules."

"We never agreed upon any rules, though. Not together, anyways." I glowered. "I-I know you don't want to 'lose' me, being your-"

"Treasure. Very special treasure. In anyone else's hands, you'd only be misused to the point of your destruction. And we can't have that, now can we?"

I huffed. "Then dress me up like you always do. Why would I care as long as I got to go?"

"The things I do and bring for you aren't enough? I'm hurt. I'm only cherishing you the way you should be cherished." He shrugged and stood, looking down on me with half-closed eyes. I huffed again and looked away.

"Cherishing. Your 'cherishing' is fine. Caging me here-"

"This is far from a cage."

"-is a different story."

"Fine. When I go to Wutai, you will come, too. Are you happy now?" He sounded agitated, but I flipped back towards him with a huge, triumphant grin. I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. We both knew I was exaggerating my reaction— hugging the man was about about as fulfilling as hugging a corpse— but sometimes I hoped that neither of us really cared about that.

"Thank you. You're such a pal."

"I'm hungry now."

"I'm sure there's something in the kitch-"

Sephiroth pushed me back into the dirt, crushing a few flowers in the process. He bent down on one knee over me and grabbed a hold of the front of my blouse. As a reflex I honed well over time, I grappled his wrist and gave him nothing short of my best struggle. "No! You know how I feel about... wh, what you do. Can't it wait until... never?"

Moments like these left me in conflict almost without fail, which half the time deterred Sephiroth, but in the other half, only made him more dogged.

"You should be glad I don't come for you like this every week, every day. I compromise; I consider and put these physical needs on hold when you ask it of me. But, did you know... Do you know what amount of restraint it takes for me to do that? A fair deal, I confess. Honestly, with that body of yours, I don't know why you fight."

"It, it just feels so... invasive... in a not too good way," I said anxiously, feeling his fingers flex open and closed against my chest. He developed the habit when his patience was tried. Or had he always made of it even before I came into existence? "You know what, I don't know why you expect me to act the way a regular woman would when... doing that. I'm not human, remember?"

"All you had cried for _was_ humanity and now you spurn it?"

"I-I just didn't want to be a monster..." I kicked at his legs but he hadn't budged one bit. I felt his hands reach for the bottom of my blouse and start to slip it off. "But now, I'm not so sure about being a woman, either..."

"I guess you'll have to talk to the Planet about that," he said with blatant delight in his voice.

"Give me strength for once," I prayed. This was going to be a long haul.


	2. Chapter 1: deja vu

_**BWG 1: déjà vu

* * *

**_

-----_**  
**_

Sephiroth had gone for the day.

That allowed me a sweet chance to go on my own fun forays to town. Town was Nibelheim— speaking in a way, it was the only town. To me, for me. Above all, it was this special little place that Sephiroth appeared so attached to, yet didn't care for at the same time, enough to ignore explaining why. We lived far to its west, nestled on both the coast and the Nibel mountain range that peaked and branched off a little ways to the north of us. If I prepared myself early, I usually had enough time to do, or attempt to do, what I pleased and then get back home before Sephiroth did. He was privy to my fleeing the cage, of course he was, he always was, but like a good girl, I remembered to wear to my cloak more often than not, so he had few bones to pick with me over when and if I didn't.

That early morning, I danced through my wake-up routine: I made myself some hot cereal, showered, dressed, put on my clothes and cloak and hurried on my merry way. All that, I did without losing more than a step or two, if any.

What added to good fortune, besides some materia I couldn't leave home without, were the Chocobos that roamed the Nibelheim lowlands. Sephiroth always questioned why I grew greens in the vegetable patch if they weren't that edible. Chocobos. The answer was Chocobos, plain and simple. They were my occasional mode of transportation while he got around in ways I found mysterious, which he still had yet to ever explain to me.

Sylkis greens were a prime choice; I grew them en masse instead of the others, that and in spite of more superficial thoughts, they looked... nice. The seeds cost a hefty chunk of gil out of my allowance, but since the traveling salesman raved about them like they were Chocobo god's gift, I couldn't resist.

--

So there I was, wandering solo. I paced a common Chocobo trail about a few miles southeast from the house. One could tell by the tramped earth and brittle old feathers and things lying in the grass. I'd crouched and arranged a neat pile of the fist-sized vegetable, albeit sparingly. They took a lot of time to grow, thus I had to ration them. Only two or three, rarely four were I feeling overly generous. Then again, I didn't go on these excursions for very long or very often, thanks to Sephiroth, so I could have splurged if I really wanted, again out of the wanton goodness of my heart.

A Chocobo parted from its nearby gaggle of grazers— a gaggle that came to expect and maybe even welcome my presence by now— and that was enough for me.

* * *

--

Nibelheim.

I'd never noticed a town more stubborn against change, especially during some of my recent visits. A year was short but still enough for change to happen here and there. Hardly in this town. The water tower and its windmill showed no signs of moving any time soon. The streets were almost always so barren when I came along, though I had to admit the children grew more bold by running around outside like children should, yipping and yowling and racing circles around me when I walked alone, asking me the funniest questions. "Are you a clone?", some asked, referring to the cloak I wore or the veil I sported. But one would say "No, they all left for that Reunion, remember?". They were the older ones who knew better, that only asked questions instead of making assumptions. The toddler types just pulled at my clothes like they _knew_ I had something to hide— I hoped it was candy, at least.

No one worked on making their houses bigger or smaller, grander or poorer. Everything stayed the same; as if that was the way it was meant to be. Except for one thing. The old mansion on the hill, Shinra Mansion. When I was lucky, I'd see people coming to and from it, sometimes with wood, metal and tools; sometimes with paper; sometimes with trash. It was easy to conclude that someone was working on that ugly, old thing. Whoever they were, I commended them.

Then I remembered what I came to do.

I hurried to the general store, where two men were standing outside, chatting. I nodded good morning, though with my cloak on they never noticed, and rushed inside. The interior was warm, mellow and smelled of certain, unknown incense, but I liked it nonetheless. This store could never be as comfy and cozy as the one in Icicle, but it managed well enough on its own.

"Hello," I said to the female clerk behind the counter.

"Hello," she returned. "What can I do you for?"

"Just browsing, thanks." I went around to the shelves packed end to end with the usual wares and novelties. I walked slowly, studying what I could, and then spotted towards the end of the store some wind chimes hanging from display rings, among other things. They were the same chimes I'd pore over every now and then, in hopes that I would actually work up the courage to buy one. And I realized that since my excursion had no real point other than to get out of the house, I decided now would be the best time. I was drawn to one set of chimes the most, with tiny tubular bells and colored spades of bowl-like metal. I was also partial to the one with prismatic pieces of glass.

Well, my decision came easily.

There was a noise in the background, a tinkling. Normally, I would've known that this was just the front door's bell, but this time, it slipped my mind entirely.

"Hmm…"

"Excuse me." A finger tapped my shoulder. I gradually stiffened and twisted around. And I gasped silently, not merely out of fear, but surprise.

"D-don't I know you…?" I stuttered.

"I don't know, should you?"

"Y-your face… so familiar." I lifted a hand to my mouth in deliberation. _Oh right_, I thought.

I gasped again, retreating a couple of steps.

"You're, you're that woman. One of, of… his friends. That man who…"

"Tifa, Tifa Lockhart," she said, grinning half in a way that I used to do. Bright. "Sorry if I scared you, but the way you were dressed… had me a little concerned. I was afraid Jenova was going to pop up again... you know? Well, maybe you don't. I'm probably just talking nonsense."

I took a few more steps back. Should I have expected this? Of course I should have. Regardless of whether this was a large world or a small one, there was always the smallest chance of running across familiar faces, one who'd be sure or not sure was friend, foe, or mere acquaintance when they left them behind. Now was one of those chances, one of those times. "D-do you know who I am?"

"Barely," she answered, her eyes drifting off to the side. "... Drana, right? You're an elusive lot. I forgot you existed for a while because you disappeared so fast. But Vincent reminded me when he thought about you. You left an impression."

Aerith had once told me about this. One was remembered more by their actions than by their faces, their names, or their parents. Actions first, appearances second. In any case, I could have cursed myself for the things I'd done, but I was only doing what I thought was right.

"T, that name- You're not going to take me in, are you?" I tried to keep my voice down, so as not to alert the clerk. But hiding the apprehension Sephiroth had drilled into me was hard to do. Tifa chuckled, shaking her head.

"No, don't worry," she assured. "Sure, we're all still curious about you, but... we can take a hint. You want to be left alone. And that's what we'll do... as long as nothing bad happens."

"O-okay…"

"Listen, I'm really sorry if I startled you. I didn't mean to. Just making sure you weren't a clone, and... saying hello. I've, I've got to go now. Don't be a stranger, or... well, I guess that'd be best if you want to keep a low profile." The tall, wispy brunette glanced down at the floor pensively, then looked back at me with a slightly crooked smile. She waved and turned on the heel of her boots to the clerk, picked something up, dropped something off, and hurried out of the store thereafter. Meanwhile, I caught my breath, snatched the wind chime off the ring and rushed to the clerk to make my own purchase. If one of those people were around, then more were bound to follow. So now, I had to be quick and slip out of town.

"Oh, I hope I didn't screw up…"

* * *

-

_From Sixth: I edit things when you're not looking._

_P.S.: What the fuck do I have to do to maintain an underlined format in this...goddamn thing every time I save after editing? My god, please.  
_


	3. Chapter 2: deja vu, too

_**2: Déjà vu, Motion Two

* * *

**_

-----_**  
**_

I stepped out of the store and ran towards the edge of town, to the skinny gray wrought-iron arch overlooked by the two-story inn. As soon as I reached that, as it stood flanked by such inviting picket fences, I'd be as good as home free. Out of the frying pan and back into the kitchen.

I guessed I expected too much.

A hand came out of nowhere and took hold of my shoulder. I jumped in shock, my bag slipping from my arms and clattering in a heap at my feet. But I wasn't about to pick it up, not at all. Instead, I stood frozen in place, hoping against hope that it wasn't another one of _them _that accosted me.

"Excuse me," said a low, deep voice.

I flinched. I came very close to spinning around and expecting to see Sephiroth, but I knew his voice. It was softer than the one speaking to me now, and I dared think more polite from those two simple words. What could I do? Just what could I do now? I shifted one foot forward, but other than that attempted nothing. I wasn't sure enough of myself.

"Did you hear what I said?" asked the mystery man.

"I-I don't want any trouble," I blurted out.

"Neither do I."

"So..."

"I know who you are," he murmured.

"I-I just, wanna go home, now…"

"Calm down, Drana. I won't hurt you," the man said despairingly.

I was thoroughly confused.

"Vincent Valentine. Tifa passed a word to me that you were in town. So I thought I'd see you before you left."

_A pretty quick word,_ I thought bittersweetly, turning slowly to face the man. Out of all _their_ faces, his was the second I recognized most, the first being Cloud's, if only because of his eyes. That stony, unmistakable light, like Sephiroth's.

There was a new characteristic air about Vincent, in his voice, his posture, his looks. He still favored red and black when it came to clothes, but this time, he appeared genuinely trim, styled in something a bit modern compared to those old, well-kept rags. The cape in general was still present and accounted for, but this one went around his shoulders instead of over and was a darker red than anything else. His hands were gloved, with one of the gloves running up nearly the entire length of his left arm. I could have assumed it was still healing, or didn't heal the way he wanted it to, so he kept it hidden; the reason might have been a dozen different things. But the gunman didn't seem self-conscious about it. My eyes also spied that his boots weren't as flamboyant anymore with the long gold toes removed. They were stern, they were angular, they were buckled and banded. Lastly, he didn't wear a red band around his head anymore, so his thick, black hair fell very loosely over his shoulders.

An eerie ghost of a smile hung on his face— Sephiroth's sort of smile.

"Oh…"

"Can I see your face?" he asked.

"I-I can't," I told him. "You know how it goes, how it…"

"I won't tell."

I blinked up at him vacantly. At this point, all he could have seen of my face was my mouth. Vincent's lips parted oddly, to which I retreated back into the shade of my hood.

"Fine. I just wanted to say hello." His fingers interlocked for a second. "Some of us will be in town for a while. We're fixing up Shinra Mansion as a WRO outpost."

"… th-that's nice," I said offhandedly. "I-I have to go now. It was nice meeting you and… Tifa. Goodbye."

As I ran off, I realized that my behavior was out of line. Stupidly. I didn't want to be scared of any and everyone I met, always living in fear of whomever schemed to do away with me in the worst way possible. Of course, there was only one person to thank for my paranoid actions. Sephiroth. Such fear had never lived in me before, but now…

An imaginary vein popped in my temple.

* * *

---

I made it home later than expected, due to the run-ins I had leaving me frazzled to some extent. I saw a little luck shine my way, as Sephiroth hadn't been waiting for me when I dashed inside. I stripped off my cloak, leapt out of my shoes and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I gazed deeply into the mirror, at my own image standing there gazing right back. I smoothed the top of my hair down and put a finger to each of my eyes, first blue then green, left to right.

"Hmm…" I sighed. "How could you act like that in front of those guys? You used to be only interested in people... not scared of them. So what's wrong now? It has to be Sephiroth. Always telling you that people mean harm. Not everybody can be that bad. Not everybody _is_ that bad...

"Well, time to get yourself back in gear. You don't have to be afraid. Sephiroth's just paranoid." I looked into the bag still dangling from my arm. I reached in for the wind chime and examined it. None of the wires had gotten tangled up in themselves, or snapped. Everything was fine, everything was in order. I sighed again, slapping a palm to my forehead. Getting stressed out wasn't a forte of mine. The word and all its tenses barely even graced my vocabulary.

I exited the bathroom, headed for the front door. I minced onto the porch, noting the sun was nowhere near setting yet; so, I'd have a few more hours to myself before Sephiroth returned from his frequent all-day ventures to who knew where. I inhaled deeply and then spun around, peeping up, down, left, right for a place to set my new wind chime.

"Hmm... I guess it's time for an arm and hammer," I said to myself, going back inside.

I glided into the kitchen, hung an immediate right and darted into the pantry. I kept all of what little tools we had here. Sephiroth didn't use them very often compared to the ones for maintaining his sword, except when I pestered him enough to do something around the house that didn't involve dragging me across the floor. I crouched down and rifled under the shelves for the toolbox.

Finally, I returned to the porch with a long nail and hammer, rose on my tiptoes to the porch's left post and drove the nail home. It only took two heavy taps to make sure it was secure. Finally, I slipped the chime onto the nail and bounced off the porch to take a clearer look at my work. I nodded.

"Not bad," I muttered.

With that done, it was time for a bit of garden work.

---

"Drana."

It was almost midnight when Sephiroth arrived. I'd been sitting on the porch drinking a glass of water, watching the black sky, most of all its stars twinkle in and out of nothing. He moved to sit next to me, sliding his sword between his knees as he did so. I let my head roll onto my left shoulder, whereas I flashed him a tiny smile.

"You're early, Mr. Explorer," I piped.

"Were you expecting me?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Just noting it out loud…"

"I have plans. Come with me?"

"Oh, you're asking rather than commanding me now?" I smirked. Sephiroth stared darkly at me, and then shrugged in the way only he could, thoughtless.

"If you want to be like that, fine," he said dismissively.

"Okay," I sighed and frowned, defeated. "Okay, what do you want to do?"

"Nothing more than a walk. To the beach, on the beach. I thought you would have liked that, but it seems you're sour tonight."

I catapulted to my feet and swiveled on a heel towards him. "Thinking ofwhat _I'd_ like for once? Heh, well what are we waiting for?"

---

The beach was little more than a half hour's walk from our house. Of course, there wasn't any delay in our departure. After the ordeal in town, I needed something like a simple walk on the beach to calm me down. Tending to my flowers had only half accomplished the task. Now I needed more. And Sephiroth provided just the opportunity.

I strolled ahead of the man, sometimes skipping, other times stopping to dig my toes into the grass for no reason other than to feel its damp coolness. He lingered silently behind me. I would have liked to break that silence, but ever since my status changed from hostage to mediocre companion, he became significantly less talkative and preferred it that way. Except, of course, when he wanted to warn me off from other people.

In the dead of night, there wasn't much to see of the beach, not to mention it was a moonless night. So, from his hands, Sephiroth warmed up a tiny ball of light to illuminate our walk. He held it out at arm's length, lifting it over me, around me, and down over the sand we treaded upon. A guiding light threaded on a piece of invisible string; it was amazing. He then urged it into my hands, which I took reluctantly but excitedly all the same. I pranced, juggling the ball of light on my fingers, spinning and crouching in the sands.

"You should tell me how to make these, I really wanna know," I breathed.

"In your body lies the wisdom of the Ancients," he explained matter-of-factly. "I doubt you need to be told since you can just reach inside yourself."

"But I don't know how to do that," I said, slumping down on the ground.

"You'll just have to learn how," he replied.

"Who'd teach me, though?"

"I'm more than just eye candy, woman."

I blushed.

"There's also your precious little ghost," Sephiroth added mockingly.

Aerith. Truth be told, I hadn't heard from her in a while, so I assumed that she was either done with her work, being me, or decided to take a vacation somewhere, in some apparitional resort. Wherever she was and whatever she was doing, I hoped her well.

"Well… since you're already here, you _can _do it," I decided.

He smirked, and then gestured to the water with a toss of his head. "You do know how to swim, don't you?"

"Huh?" It took some time before his words finally managed to register in my head. I then answered slowly, "Oh uh... I don't know. Maybe I do, but... I never thought to try."

"We've been here next to the beach for over a year and we, or rather you, have never gone swimming…" He stroked his fine, sharp chin, standing askance and deep in rumination.

"Well, guess who wants me cooped up in the house all the time like…some... silly housewife," I said sardonically. "Of course there's gonna be things I haven't done yet... Not only that, but I'm so busy with my garden sometimes, anyways. I guess I should make time on the side for other things…"

"Well," Sephiroth started to say, "I'm going for a swim. Come on in if you want. That's why I invited you, after all."

"You wanted to bond? Is that it?" I quirked an eyebrow at him. He said nothing in response. Instead, the man began to peel off his clothes, one article at a time, all while facing me. He knew how uncomfortable I got when presented the view of what made him a man. Those easy to see aspects, the physical ones. Oh, those physical ones. I could feel how he liked to bother me in any little way he could. Like an annoying child that knew he was being annoying and took pleasure in it, too. His body would glow darkly yellow with mischief, even tinged a bit red with other rampant thoughts.

"That's not bonding, you know," I called to him. "That's just showing off. I can see everything…"

"You love the view."

I choked on my own embarrassment. "I, I do not."

Sephiroth approached me suddenly while I sat in the sand fiddling with the orb of light. His hips rocked into my eyesight, demanding all of it no matter which way I turned my head. I closed my eyes and held my breath because even the smell of him this close literally drove me insane. That animal scent. Was this female shell really attracted to that? After all this time, I was still confused about myself. My body, my personality, my actions. His body, his personality, his actions. Why we were here, together like this. Maybe I loved the conflict. I had to admit it kept me busy inside, to say the least; it kept me from feeling like a thing, but a person.

"Oh come on," he uttered without patience. "Stop thinking so hard that it hurts my head. Just live. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

"I…"

"Don't abandon your precious humanity," Sephiroth said in mock sadness. "Go on, touch. Will I mind? You tell me."

"Oh, d-don't tell ME about abandoning MY humanity when you-"

Instantly, he took my head in his hands and pulled me in to his bare belly. As delicate as that smell was, I still found it dizzying and distracting and everything in between. Heady and pungent and strangely clean and... I reached for his hips and pushed myself away with a sour look of more than just annoyance. He'd merely smiled like an imp in return.

"This isn't about me," he interjected, his voice astute. "In my nice little advent, I've become quite comfortable. Drana. I'll use this human flesh in however I see fit, such as 'torturing' you-"

"I-"

"-so I see no more need to make changes," he finished. "As for you and your... descent from the Promised Land, learn to accept that you are human, too, in these parts. Accept all that it entails, including but not limited to, all matters and desires of the flesh. Which is, I must say... everything that being human entails?"

"I-I just don't understand," I huffed, falling backwards into the sand. "You'd think so in the time that passed, and from all the Ancient stuff that you say is in me, but... The Planet kinda leaves me in the dark here. And Aerith, too. She hasn't spoken to me in a while."

"Imaginary friends will do that."

'She's not imaginary!" I exclaimed. "You saw her, too! She showed herself to you, don't you remember? She's real... or... she was real."

"Your ghost friend, then." Sephiroth stretched his arms high over his head and exhaled aloud. He turned towards the water, flexing as if it was no big feat. "Well, time for that swim..."

"Oh wait, what's that? Is that a plane?" I pointed towards the black sky as tiny white and red lights zipped and blinked overhead. Sephiroth craned his neck up and to his right, searching.

"Yes, yes it is…" A muted green light burst from his eyes as he continued to stare heavenward. The resolve in his albeit naked stature left me unnerved just a tad. Alert, plain and simple. I stood up and came to stand right behind him, gazing at the side of his face.

"What's that look for?" I asked. "It's just a plane, isn't it? No need to look so grave, right?"

"That plane says Shinra on the side," he told me. I jerked my head back in surprise.

"Wow, you can see that from all the way down here? I want to do that, too."

"… hmph."


	4. Chapter 3: Putting on Heirs

_**3: Putting on Heirs

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**_

-----

Saristis Noah sat patiently with his colleagues within the cramped cabin of their small passenger plane. Destination: Rocket Town. He hadn't realized the flight from Costa del Sol would be so lengthy. But the dullness and discomfort would soon be over, also soothed by the reflection of what good tidings awaited him once they landed. The somewhat young man combed his fidgety fingers through his lively red coif and sighed, looking out of the window onto the dark lands below. He recognized the terrain as the Nibelheim region, with an honorable grimace towards the jagged Nibel mountain range. And lastly a secret, satisfied smirk for what else might lie below.

"What's on your mind, Sar?" asked one of the redhead's colleagues, a plain, ginger-haired woman just a few years older than he. The anxious scientist shrugged and shook his head.

"Ah nothing, but I'm very eager to meet this... what's the name of the man we're meeting again?"

"Uh, if I recall, it's... ah yes, a Mr. Cid, Cid Highwind," answered another of Saristis' companions. He was a bearded, utterly middle-aged man with a gruff and haughty voice. "Do you think he might actually know the whereabouts of this creature?"

"Well, from what I gather, he'd at least know enough for us to be able to fare better on our own. There is, not to mention, that he was present at the Junon incident. Despite his... unpleasantness, Mr. Highwind was the only one available out of those who were also attendant to said incident."

"He was involved with Shinra at one time, wasn't he?" queried the third scientist in the seats opposite of Saristis, a small androgynous man with relatively spiky, fawn hair.

"Yes, he was to be the first man in space at the time that Shinra's now defunct Space Program was still funded," the redhead expounded in a single wind.

"During Meteorfall, wasn't he, along with the terrorist group AVALANCHE, the one who commandeered Shinra's rocket?" the lady scientist inserted. The other nodded and snugly folded his arms in each other.

"So he got his wish anyways. But all that precious materia we had was lost to them because of those bungling soldiers, and let's not forget those sloppy Turks. I swear brute force is never the answer to such predicaments."

"Hey, we have some of those soldiers under our employment now," the bearded man replied harshly. "If they were bungling under Shinra, will we be any better? They were our charge, too, before we turned rogue. Well, at least you came from Shinra, Sar, and Aridale, too. The rest of us were just affiliates."

"I think we're getting a bit off-topic, aren't we, guys?" Saristis said, his voice joking."Rather than our roots, I think we should focus on finding out more about our creature."

* * *

--

The plane landed smoothly in the fields just outside of northern Rocket Town, which preceded the former launchpad of the Shinra rocket. The quintet of zealous scholars filed out of the plane onto the midnight inked grass and looked around. The entire town was no doubt asleep, if only somewhat roused by the sounds of their arrival. But neither of the four, or rather five, seemed concerned with etiquette on how to make an entrance. Their only goal here was to seek out Cid Highwind.

"Ugh, this place looks a little too rural for my tastes," Aridale remarked with an arbitrary toss of her hair.

"Yes, well, I'm sure it still has its urban charms... somewhere," Saristis said, shrugging his shoulders. He dipped his hands into the pockets of his crisp, white lab coat and strode down into the long abandoned launchpad area. "Night hides many things, you know."

"Oh surely..."

The redhead loudly cleared his throat. "Now, where does Mr. Highwind live?"

"Just a moment," voiced the smallest man of the four present. He reached into an inner pocket of his own lab coat and produced a piece of folded yellow paper on which an address had been hastily scrawled. "Aha, it appears his house is located right on the other side of the launchpad. Bull's eye, sir."

"Ah, Evvey, without you, we're nothing more than a bunch of those stupid deaf-mutes," Aridale voiced to her near genderless cohort, her head bowed a bit in obvious admiration. Leering eyes, in turn, assaulted her without fail.

"Are you calling the rest of us incompetent?" barked the bearded man.

"If the shoe fits. But Sar is the head, so he's naturally a valuable asset," the woman noted with a sinister grin on her thin cream-colored lips. "You, Emerson, and Quelin, on the other hand are like... hangnails. Always getting in the way. Hard to get rid of, that sort of thing."

Emerson clenched his fists in unbridled fury towards Aridale's blatant vanity. Why he'd never given her five across the eye, he had to wonder, other than maintaining _some _air of composure and human credibility. Livid, he spat, "And I suppose you're unique?"

"Well, I don't like to brag but-"

"Now, now, Jenna, you always do this," Saristis interrupted. "We've work to do; we don't have time for your quibbling amongst each other."

"You're the boss, Sar," Aridale chimed.

"Why don't you and Quelin find the inn? The rest of us will head to Cid's house."

"Ah, to be paired up with the _real_ resident deaf-mute around here. Come on, you sack of dead meat."

Aridale and Quelin, a tight-lipped twig of a man with salt-and-pepper hair, departed from the main group and wound through houses and open yards to the main streets of town. Saristis, Emerson, and Evvey took a different direction, heading straight south from the launchpad.

Kitton Evvey, preferring to be called by his last name over his unfavorable first, led the way to Cid Highwind's house, silently muttering to himself. As anyone in the group knew, he was a bit on the obsessive-compulsive side, but then again so were they in each their respective rights. His unique tick was just rehearsing random bits of information to himself. And it turned out to be more helpful than it was annoying. In one case, it was even life-saving.

After a few short minutes of trotting over rusty old cables and scrap metal, they approached a less than solitary house, though cottage would have been more fitting a word, where nestled in a half-fenced yard was a tiny, shiny red aeroplane. The trio of men circled the yard on its left side to the house, then huddled a few feet away.

Lights were on.

"So this is the Highwind residence," Saristis uttered.

"Looks like they're in," Emerson noted.

"No time like the present."

They stepped up to the door. Before knocking, Saristis adjusted his sleeves and shirt collar, while Emerson smoothed his beard, mustache and what hair was still growing from the top and sides of his head.

Tap tap.

"The hell?" an agitated voice resounded. "It's almost 1 a.m.!"

A feminine, infinitely softer voice had vaguely replied.

"Shit, don't look at me, I wasn't expectin' anybody!"

"Well, that must be Cid Highwind," Emerson chuckled. "Sounds like a man after my own heart."

"More like your mouth on a bad day," his superior corrected.

There as a shuffling behind the closed door, and then the hasty sound of several tumblers turning. At last, the door opened to reveal a robed, meek and petite brunette, with thick black-rimmed glasses and slightly freckled cheeks. On the hand that gripped the door jamb gleamed the simplest of silver wedding bands. Like Aridale, the woman was certainly pretty for how plain she was— who knew, she might have looked even prettier with her out of that giant ponytail. But not his type, and from what little Saristis recalled of Mr. Highwind, she didn't seem like his, either. He stood corrected. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Oh, pardon me." Saristis bowed his head courteously and went on to say, "I am Dr. Saristis Noah, and these are my colleagues Anton Emerson and Kitton Evvey. We're here to speak with a Mr. Cid Highwind. Is he in?"

"Um... you want to talk to Cid?"

"Shera! Who's that?"

"It's some people to-"

"People? Lemme see here." A rough looking blond-haired man pushed past the woman, removing her from their initial view. He was dressed down in a wife-beater and sweat pants, taking long drags from a cigarette. His dark blue eyes were understandably irate, as was the rest of him. "Lab coats? What d'ya want?"

"Uh... Mr. Highwind?"

"Yeah?"

"My name is Saristis Noah and I would like a moment of your time to…"

"I ain't buyin'!" Cid erupted. The redhead laughed once, graciously amused by the blond man's harshness.

"No, sir, we're not selling anything. Now, I don't know if you remember but we met about a few months ago. I'd like to talk with you about something. Is that alright?"

"Hmm, well…" Cid scratched at the light stubble of his chin, took another drag of his cigarette, and then exhaled the smoke through his nose. "What about?"

"Ah, would you mind inviting us in, Mr. Highwind?" Saristis inquired with a small smile. "If you don't mind?"

"Ah, whatever. Shera! Make some goddamn tea, we got guests." Cid spun on his bare feet and casually retreated into the dining room, seating himself in a chair at the table. The woman, Shera, grinned nervously and gestured for the men to come inside. They all bowed their heads, exchanging secret glances, and at last, followed suit. As they entered, the three strategically took positions within the dining room to their immediate right, firstly with Saristis taking a seat directly across from Cid, Emerson next to the redhead, and Evvey shifting comfortably into the corner behind them, notepad in hand.

"Well, then... Mr. Highwind."

"Cid! Now spill it, I hate beatin' around the bush, ya hear? What d'ya want with me?" He persisted in tipping his chair onto its hind legs. His impatience was almost endearing.

"We'd like to ask you some questions about the incident in Junon some time ago," Saristis explained. One of Cid's eyebrows crept up in slight caution.

"Eh?"

"The... the incident. At Junon. Monsters attacked. You were there, with a number of others, who saved the city."

"Oh. Well, yeah I was there. What's it to ya?" Cid asked brusquely, taking an especially long drag from his ever shortening cigarette.

"Well, during that same event there was something else," Emerson piped up. "Something that goes beyond the realm of monsters. We thought you might know something about it."

"Like what?"

"Evvey, care to inform Cid on the supposed specifics of our mystery creature?" Saristis offered.

"Yessir." Evvey stepped forward, flipping through his yellow notepad. "It reportedly hides behind a human semblance. Thus it should be sentient, and answers to a name. No conclusive evidence as of yet to a definitive sex. However, a few testimonials that we've managed to gather point to it being female more than male. Ah…" He browsed through several more pages whereupon countless notes had been scribbled, then nodded to his finally finding the desired tidbit of information. "Other testimonials strongly indicate it being involved with the World Regenesis Organization, WRO for short. And as it stands, you, Mr. Highwind, are the commander-in-chief of their air division."

"Oh Evvey, didn't you forget to mention one thing that might further rouse Mr. Highwind's interest? That the Junon incident and sightings of this creature also coincide with the first true reported sightings of the deceased general Sephiroth, for instance? Since that so-called... Meteorfall disaster."

"There have been unofficial reports prior to even the Junon incident, sir. Situated primarily in Costa del Sol. But no one eyewitness is ever completely certain of what they saw, not even after further interrogation."

"This is truly an intriguing case."

"One more thing: The sightings have generally ended less than a year and a half ago. As have those of the creature we are seeking. But that does not mean the end of unofficial accounts that crop up once in a blue moon."

"Thank you, Evvey," Saristis said with a grateful nod. Cid folded his arms in each other and continued to glare with severity uncommon for him. Meanwhile, Shera returned from the kitchen with a tray occupied by little cups, a tea kettle, and silverware just for this sort of occasion.

"Here you go, some nice chamomile tea. I'd have made rose but we're out at the moment... thanks to him." She turned slowly to Cid, noticing his hard, concentrated stare. "Is something wrong, Cid? You look kind of angry. Then again, you always look like that, so…"

"Eh?" he grunted, and then waved her off. "Ehhh..."

"Mr. Highwind, what we're getting at is this," Saristis began. "We would like you tell us the whereabouts of this creature, or at least drop us a hint of where or who to go to next. We apologize if the information we have disclosed is too insufficient for you to properly help us out, but anything you can give us will be greatly appreciated."

Cid sat straight in his chair, and drove a finger into his ear. "Ah, I dunno nothin'. All this Sephiroth and creature shit, not one bit. Junon? Just did what I thought was right. Nothin' more to it."

"But sir, we-"

"Do you have shit for ears?! I said I dunno anythin'! Now get out of my house, we gotta get some sleep!"

"Cid, what is it you don't know? Maybe I can help," Shera inserted, which granted her a glower from the man.

"Shera, shut up! We don't know nothin'! Alright?!"

"Are you sure, Mr. Highwind?" Emerson said, his eyes hard. "Perhaps you're not digging deep enough into your memory. Or maybe you're suppressing it all for some reason?"

"Hey!" he snapped. "Don't tell me what the fuck I'm suppressin' or all that shit. I'm finished with ya. I'm goin' to bed; don't let the door hit y'all asses on the way out!"

Cid disappeared in a searing cloud of hostility, leaving his guests dazed. Shera just stood at the head of the table with a blank look on her face. She then shrugged and chuckled haltingly.

"You'll have to excuse Cid. He's always so easily excitable..." The meek looking woman pulled off her glasses and cleaned them diligently on the sleeve of her robe.

"Miss Shera, you heard what we were talking about, right?" Saristis asked. "Would you happen to know anything?"

"Oh, Cid's picky with telling me certain things sometimes, so I'm just as much in the dark as you are. I'm sorry, but you'll still have tea, won't you?"

"Oh, of course, but we'll have to be quick. Our company is obviously no longer welcome."


	5. Chapter 4: Baby Birds

_**4: Baby Birds: And Then There were Two…

* * *

**_

-----

I awoke early that morning, surprised to see Sephiroth still fast asleep next to me. Between the two of us, he was early to bed and early to rise. That military breeding. But not today. As usual, he had an arm flung over me; no matter if he was awake or not, he managed that dominating air to every end he could. I was never flattered so much as bothered. Flattered and bothered; though my reasons were never good enough to make the man see any other way. With a huff and shove, I crawled and parked myself on the edge of the bed, stretching, yawning, groaning. Through the curtains of our large, single bedroom window, I could see that sunlight had just begun to shine.

I stood up.

"Where are you going?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice. It almost seemed to come out of nowhere.

"I don't have to tell you... You should know my routine by now, anyways," I sighed. "I'm just going for a shower."

"Wake me for breakfast," he said.

"... ugh." I stared at him for the longest time after he closed his eyes. A glimmer of something flashed before my face. It fought, it writhed and finally died back beneath his skin. As if he knew I was still standing there, staring too hard for my own good, Sephiroth turned over on his side, facing away from me. I surrendered to the confusion and pondered it.

Some shadow cried for freedom on the surface. What it was I hadn't a clue. But it was something that Sephiroth kept buried inside, a feisty little thing that he'd allow to scratch briefly under his skin then smother back down into his darker recesses. It'd happened before, in quiet moments like this. Was it content? Discontent? Loneliness, anger? I sighed inwardly and began my march to the bathroom.

--

After a good fifteen minutes, I hopped out of the shower and into some clothes, feeling verily refreshed. I went straightaway to the kitchen, and commenced cooking up some hot cereal on the stove. I made a quick run back to the bedroom, gave the gray-headed sleeper a vigorous poke and ran back. I whipped two bowls out of the cabinet and spun them onto the tabletop with a zest I thought I wouldn't have today.

Sephiroth had slipped silently into the kitchen while I prepared breakfast.

"Nice to see you up," I said.

"Mm," he sounded, straightening out his loose, drawstring pants. I was glad they left something to the imagination— even though I'd seen it all already...

"Take your pick, and there's more in the pot," I pointed out.

He took a seat, grabbed a bowl and a spoon I set aside, and tucked diligently into the hot cereal. I sat down across from him, with my own bowl and spoon.

"So, what's on today's agenda?" I asked Sephiroth.

"I don't have any specific plans," he answered. "Do you?"

"Um well… I'm not sure yet."

"You're not thinking of going to town, are you?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"I will be staying here for the day," he decided to say. "I need a break."

"Break from what?" I wondered aloud, gazing. "What do you do when you go out?"

"What?"

I spooned some cereal into my mouth, savoring the taste a little bit. "What do you do? Do you shop? Do you browse? Do you talk to people?"

"You know what I do." He took a bite, too.

"Hardly. Tell me."

"Why are you suddenly so curious?"

"Because, I _am _curious. And you're too mysterious."

"Just listen to my mind, like I listen to yours," he explained. "Though it's more unwelcome than it is welcome."

"I-I'm not…"

"Strong enough?" Sephiroth laughed musingly. "Do you know what I hear from you every so often? Always whispering, Drana, always wishing…"

I drew back in my chair, blushing what I could only assume was a hot apple red. How shameful that I'd forget he could hear my thoughts no matter the place, time of day, or any of that. He would know what made me happy, he would know what made me sad, and he of course knew what made me ill at ease. My hopes. My dreams. I took a deep breath and held it in.

"Strength. Whispering and wishing for strength. To be stronger than me." He snickered.

"I guess I'm not trying, huh," I conceded. "I'm not trying to do a lot of things."

"Books," he said abruptly. I looked up at him from my cereal.

"Huh? Books? What about books?"

"First and foremost, I am a soldier. But ever since childhood, I've always been... of a bookish sort." His human eyes fell thoughtfully into his cereal as he swirled his spoon around and around. The swirling made me nervous. It wasn't one of his normal habits, for lack of a better word. They often came out of nowhere, but mostly preceded little moments like these in confidence. Either way, my heart fluttered in the wake of his movements and voice. "Books. In my spare time, I've been searching for a few."

"By the pile building up next to the bed, I could have figured that out myself," I said in a considerate pout.

"It pays to be attentive to your surroundings. This is why I always stress that you stay away from towns. Because you haven't learned most of the basics, yet. Or not that well if otherwise."

"I can't learn if I'm not in the right environment," I grumbled.

"You love to resist me, don't you?" Sephiroth grinned menacingly.

"You're just not a good teacher," I shrugged. "Remember, you forsook your humanity, so you're right back to the basics, too."

He fell silent.

"Bingo," I chirped victoriously. "We both have growing up to do. But that doesn't mean we can't both teach and learn from each other. You're still a bad teacher, though."

"You're a slow learner," he retorted, "with your head always stuck in the clouds…"

"I resent that."

* * *

-----

Vincent stood in the crumbling foyer of Shinra Mansion, with a sorely visible scowl on his face. So many memories lingered here in this mass of wood, metal and stone, virtually all of them being the nastiest sort. But he had to learn to cope, stand his ground, conquer and embrace it all. This resolve arose with the agreement to restore and refurbish the mansion into a brand new branch of the WRO. He wanted to wipe the whole slate clean and start anew.

"Hiyaa!"

A shout resonated throughout the decadent depths of the mansion and cut through Vincent's ears with the keenness of a hawk's screech. He identified the call as Tifa's, as she roamed the upper floor taking care of usual business. Or perhaps not. He'd taken a few steps toward the right staircase, just before the woman herself came strolling onto the mezzanine above. His eyes spotted a faint edginess to her frame, to her hands as they gripped the railing.

"What-"

"Don't worry, Vincent, it was nothing," she called down to him.

"What was nothing?" he asked reflexively.

"I thought we cleaned out all the monsters down in the basement," she explained, holding up a finger as she went. "But one more managed to wander up here. Took me by surprise. I got rid of it, though…"

"But?"

"I kind of made a mess. Mind lending a hand?"

Several WRO volunteer workers appeared from the rear bowels of the mansion, carrying boxes and rolling wheelbarrows full of trash and salvaged materials. Vincent motioned to one who seemed to be carrying the least, but Tifa deftly leapt down the distance to her companion and snapped up his arm to stop him, if not for a bit of support after a jump like that.

"Hey, you're not inept," she motioned, smirking.

"I-"

"Come on." With an intensely big smile on her face, she led the quiet man upstairs and back to the scene where she dispatched the stray monster. They turned sharply through the east and north hallways to the room at the very end, urging Tifa to pinch her nostrils as soon as they came to the doorway.

"Oh wow, it's beginning to reek already." She looked at Vincent, who managed to maintain that same state of detachment, even though the slight furrow to his brow spoke that he was bothered by it as well.

"You really did a number on this thing," he said, finally. He approached the small, lopsided corpse propped haphazardly against the far wall. A Dorky Face. Putrid jellied juices leaked from its pumpkin of a skull and bubbled on the floor. He nodded at the handiwork that did it in. Part of the head caved in to the shape of a U, a sign of death by heel drop most ruthless and precise. "I'm a little intimidated."

"Well, I…" Tifa blushed, trying to hide it with a hand over her nose and mouth.

"Alright, I'll fetch a bag for the body." The black-haired man cleared his throat and twisted on his heels for the doorway.

"Oh, let's go together. I'll get the disinfectants, too." Without thinking, Tifa hooked her arm through Vincent's. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the woman as if she grew another head. She blushed brighter this time, and his spotting it was unavoidable. She knew that Vincent was rarely one for friendly contact, at least when and where it wasn't necessary. With his arm released, both stepped about two feet back from each other. Tifa fumbled with her hair in the meantime, eyes arcing across the ceiling. "Sorry, I know... how you are with the whole touching thing... I think."

Vincent said nothing, which led to a desire to quickly sweat all the sudden tension away. It nipped angrily at her nerves and she wanted it to stop. Deep down, the woman was irked. Around Cloud, around Barret and Cid, even Nanaki, she knew how to conduct herself. But Vincent occupied a whole other tier of personage. Thankfully, she understood his situation. He had been subject to horrible experiments in the past. She was sure that anybody would shun the contact of others after living nightmares like that. Just like she when her mother died. This was no different.

"What is it?" Vincent voiced, managing to pierce the veil that hung over Tifa's mind. She shook her head rapidly in confusion.

"Oh nothing, um, uh... Just thinking about the others. And Cloud."

A smile.

But it was no match for her companion's keen, deep brownish red eyes. They bore holes into her skin for the briefest second, succeeding in ripping a flinch from her.

"Very well."

The pair returned to the first floor of the mansion. Piles of tools towered over the left side of the double doors in the foyer, tools brought in by the workers and stuff fished out of Tifa's old house down the hill. A pair of markedly young men congregated at the pile but fell into a hush at the sight of their supervisors. Their postures went rigid in salute and hurried on to do more work. Though many things needed hauling out of the building, only a handful of WRO workers were summoned. Another troupe would come in later to perform the bulk of the renovations.

After grabbing what they needed, Vincent and Tifa sauntered back up to the second floor. The corpse was bagged and the floor was sprayed and scrubbed down. Although, the precaution was needless in the long run, monsters carried disease just like rats. Getting sick while on the job would only slow things down.

"I'll go take this out back," Vincent said and disappeared down the hall.

Tifa took a seat in the hall, away from the antiseptic fumes and lingering stench of monster juice. As she slumped against the wall, she slipped out of her gloves and slapped them into a tiny heap a little more than a foot away.

"Where the heck is Cid?" she grumbled to herself. The day before, she had called on him to help with the mansion's restoration, and he agreed to lend a hand. Today would be the day he'd first enter the development. But over two hours had passed since his scheduled arrival. "So much for dependable…"

Tifa looked over the walls with their peeling paint and molding wood. Most of them needed to be stripped to the frame, she mused. All the decomposing furniture had to be thrown out. No one yet dared touch the scientific stuff that lay stocked in several of the upper floor rooms. An entirely different task force was set aside to handle all the shady equipment up here and down in the basement. A lot was to be done, but the deadline was reasonable. Not only that but the WRO's workforce was easily replenishable, so fresh new faces when the others got old meant a quick but steady pace that would get things done on time.

Something clicked to mind.

Vincent wanted the old piano to stay behind. Tifa hadn't asked why but accepted it. But later, she would be sure to question him on it.

Some ten or so minutes later, her companion returned. She jumped to her feet, sweeping the clingy dust from the seat of her overalls.

"Everything good?" she asked.

"Everything's good," he answered.

"Alright, now on to other business. Now while the other guys are still hauling trash out, we can take a lil initiative and start ripping through these walls. Is that fine with you?"

Vincent's eyes had wandered off elsewhere, and it couldn't have had more inappropriate timing. With arms crossed and head slightly tilted, he stood deathly still in the opposite direction. Tifa sidled up next to him, trying to follow his far-off gaze. Ceiling. That was about it. She then thrust a hand into his face, breaking his attention and wresting it back upon herself.

"Planet to Vincent," she said. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You zoned out."

"Oh," he replied simply enough. "I was just remembering some things. You know. This mansion…"

"Oh… Well, you don't have to stay if you don't want to. I can-"

"I'm alright."

"Okay, then let's hop to it, if you're able."

"I'm able." Although, his posture betrayed his words. Something insisted on preoccupying the man. His eyes fell half-closed as Tifa urged him to their next order of business, and he was only half as responsive. As she feared, their surroundings were getting to him. He did volunteer, but his behavior as it turned out to be now showed he was in no position to be doing any real work here. A nagging itch told her to ask but she relented. In time, he'd either get with the program or be forced to head home early. Wherever that was. No one was ever absolutely sure.

Tifa left for a moment to fetch some hammers. When she returned, she found Vincent seated in a chair in the room where the monster was killed. Heeding her presence, he rose to his feet and adjusted his clothes. He spotted the quirked eyebrow that greeted him, to which he said, "What?"

"All of a sudden, you're acting strange," the woman noted with a suspicious tone. "Did you notice or... what?"

"I'm sorry, Tifa. I'll admit something's on my mind right now."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I... don't know. Could I really confide in you?"

Tifa simultaneously jerked back in a laugh and a scoff. "Are you serious? How long have you known me? Three years, tops? Give or take a month or four. Don't forget, I'm a bartender; you won't believe the amount of people who confide in me. I think I can handle one more, even if it's you."

"Point taken," Vincent said with a roll of his eyes.

"Alright!" she exclaimed, grabbing a crate and slamming it down in front of her. The woman seated herself thusly and gestured for her company to do the same. "So, what's on your mind?"

"It's... about Drana."

"Drana? Oh, her. What about her?"

"... I can't really say. It's hard to explain."

"Ahhh, I get it now," Tifa chuckled softly. "This happens to lots of guys, Vince. I'm not sure what to classify her as, though. Forbidden fruit? Or just a hard catch? She reminds me too much of Aerith, though. Be careful if Cloud gets interested, too. That'll be a battle for the history books…"

"Uh... no."

"No?" She was shocked.

"Like I said, it's hard to explain."

"Well... drop me a bone here," she sighed. "I can't read your mind."

"I know that," he replied. "It's just that... when we met in town, seeing her reminded me of Lucrecia."

"Why's that? Is it because you see Sephiroth in her face? And he's her son?"

"That might be part of it… But it's more like, I see Lucrecia _directly_ in Drana's face. I find it unsettling. I wasn't expecting this after I asked her for help back then…" Vincent fell into the deepest silence, deliberating on past events, current notions, and future deductions. He was more than just unsettled. He was rattled to the core, and having Tifa stare at him with those big brown eyes only served to instill more discomfort.

"Hey, Vince… Did something happen?"

"… I think that's enough for one day. Let's get back to work."

* * *

--

_From Sixth: Holy cluster fuck. Looking back at the original, I can't believe I ever bothered to post that mess. It was like I didn't know the meaning of spellcheck and proofread when I first typed it up. I think the Blackadder font had something to do with it… So pretty but… illegible half the time._


	6. Chapter 5: Dinner in a Curio

_**5: Dinner in a Curio

* * *

**_

-----

Sephiroth made it clear the night before that I needed rest early. When I asked why he thought so, he had merely glared and went to sleep himself. That response certainly made my decision for me, of course. I stayed up late, just to be the rebellious teen to his overbearing parent.

Or I had tried. Hard, but probably not hard enough.

Something had decisively gripped me from afar, something like hazy little stars dancing around my head. And I fell asleep like a dead log plunging into a river, a swift one, but soothing, nonetheless. Just before I hit the book I'd been reading headfirst, I realized that this...this wasn't a voluntary lash of fatigue. But who was I to complain in the long run? Sleep wasn't all that bad.

--

Morning came, a very, very early morning.

"Get up," said a calm but stern voice.

I stirred but made no real attempt to wake. Who would ever want to be roused from sleeping on a cloud? Certainly not I. But before long, I felt a shift in my weight, a pull to my arms, legs, and head. Clearly disturbed, I opened an eye to find Sephiroth. He held me to him by the arms, the impatience thick as a beard on his face. I quirked a tired eyebrow, then slowly worked my way out of the crook of his arm onto the edge of the bed.

"Wow, why are you waking me up so early?" I fumbled for nothing in particular, then turned my sights on the curtains. Not a single ray of light shone through the dark blue fabric. I stared up at the stiffly postured man, dressed down in his usual, casual military garb, almost the same dusky colors.

"Take your shower," he told me. "We leave in half an hour."

"Leave? We're... going somewhere?"

"Wutai."

I shot to my feet, unsure of whether to be ecstatic. "To Wutai...? R-Really?! Oh oh... um... D-don't leave without me, or I'll never forgive you."

"Perish the thought," Sephiroth said, albeit sarcastically. "Get ready."

Half an hour passed quickly. As soon as I jumped out of the shower, I hopped into some clothes and Sephiroth ungraciously slapped a cloak over me just as I waltzed out of the bedroom. I hated for my mood to be soured while the day was still so new, but there wasn't a thing I could do about it. He cloaked himself as well, and together, we stepped outside onto the porch. We were going to Wutai. I was going to Wutai, a new land, a new joy.

"Okay, so now what?" I asked, barely able to contain myself.

"We fly."

"_You_ fly," I corrected. "I cling for dear life like a leech."

"That knowledge lies within you. Why don't you trying looking inside yourself for once?"

"Do I need to?" I asked, genuinely curious. Sephiroth lifted a finger to his temple and exhaled tiredly.

"For strength of _your_ origins," he said. "I think that human shell keeps you from what you're truly capable of. I would tell you to get rid of it but... I've grown attached."

"Aerith told me to keep myself pulled together. Otherwise, I... wouldn't be me." I had to muse over what I said. _But what made me, me? A name, a face, a..._ Sephiroth knocked it out of me as he scooped me up in his arms, securing my body a little too tightly— as if I would fly away without him. I knew I must have looked a strange bundle, glaring daggers at my carrier from beneath my own hood into his. The shaded corner of his mouth curled into too subtle mirth. "Don't say a thing. Just fly."

"Right..."

His knees bent, prepared to take off in a flash.

"Wait!" I cried. "My flowers, they need to be watered and-"

Sephiroth sighed. He set me back on my feet, though keeping one arm around my waist. He snapped his fingers once over his shoulder.

"Wait for it," he advised. So I did.

The faintest shadow began to creep over my flowerbeds. Fearful of what it was, I moved to try and protect them, but Sephiroth stopped me from doing so and pointed up. In the dark, early morning sky, I saw a clear shimmering bubble descend upon my little garden. Water. He'd called it from out of nowhere, and with a second snap of his fingers the bubble burst into a near invisible shower. The soft patter on my flowers and the ground was a sweet tinkle of a melody, enough to assuage me just a little.

"Oh…"

"That should tide your precious little garden over until we get back."

* * *

-----

Between the wild lashing of my hood and the wind roaring in my ears, the flight was largely unsatisfying. I wanted badly to curse Sephiroth for having me wear this blasted cloak that stole from me what beautiful sights I could have seen along the way. He was having all the fun; I just felt like some lame animal hitching a ride.

"Almost there," I suddenly heard him say. His ability to speak so clearly under the wind boggled my mind. The little esoteric things he knew how to do, I wanted to learn, too. He knew the Lifestream way too well, had a firmer grasp on it than I did and I was lot closer to it than he'd ever-

"Ouch!" I yelped.

"You're interfering with my concentration," Sephiroth snapped. I batted his hand away from my arm where a bright pink welt began to form. I felt demeaned, but in a way I supposed that I had it coming to me. Day in and out, I tormented the man with everything I contemplated under the sun and moon. There was no use in blaming him. Then again, he made me think about things. Sometimes a lot and necessarily willingly.

"How much longer 'til Wutai?" I asked, then trying to draw his awareness elsewhere.

"Soon."

I would keep my mouth shut until we reached land. Out of kindness for Sephiroth and the need to avoid anymore pinches, I cranked my brooding train to a near all-time low. His body felt cool and content as a result. I let my head loll listlessly against his shoulder and closed my eyes in the meantime.

--

From the red shores, my eyes grasped how wonderful Wutai was starting to look. Rocky hills rolled towards the sky, giving way to the shapeliest mountains in the distance. As Sephiroth and I climbed those hills, great brownish-green valleys unfurled, cradling whole villages and rippling forests and fields as far as the eye could see.

This was the nation of Wutai.

Sephiroth stood by me, his stance full of familiarity in this land. I remembered asking about his past as a soldier once. According to him, it was here that he earned his title as war hero and veteran. Maybe that contributed to my interest about this place. This was my chance to see where Sephiroth fought so hard for someone, or rather something, as shady as Shinra. Even just standing here on Wutai's red soil, I could feel history wave beneath my feet, the exoticism pervade the air around me, and the age of this land suck the breath right out of my body. I wished that Sephiroth had decided we live here than on the main continent. The occidental mystique felt oh so renewing.

"Calm down," Sephiroth said, stepping in front of me. "I could mistake you for me after a few sexless months."

"Wh-wha?" A part of me had suddenly fallen into cardiac arrest. His wording... It was amazing how 'off' it could be on those rare occasions. "D-don't be silly. It's just the Planet is... is…"

"Pleasuring you."

"No, noooo," I groused, rolling my eyes. "There, there's just so much soaked into the earth here and... It feels like paradise." I was reeling before I even realized it. I sensed Sephiroth's hand wriggle past my cloak and hair to my back, fingers running up my spine like a giant spider. I pitched forward out of his wandering hand and stepped lightly down the hill. The steep slope sent me halfway gliding into the valley at high speed.

The village awaited.

The neck of a stream greeted me. It sliced and wound through this valed village, disappearing behind trees and old, red towers in the distance. Bridges crooked; birds, children, and flowers waded in the crystal clear waters under the late morning sun. Paradise. It was hard to believe a war had been waged on this soil, and still, everything remained as beautiful as life could be. If sparkling was a sound, my eyes would have scared all the birds away.

"Wutai is impressive when cowed," Sephiroth said.

"How many years has it been since the war…?" I asked.

"I was twenty-five when it ended. More than eight years have passed."

"So," I started, "if you'd lived like a regular person, you'd be thirty-three or something by now. Like an old man, huh?"

"Hardly."

"This place doesn't even look half affected by what happened here…"

"The effects aren't so visible to one like you, not anymore. The economy isn't what it used to be. Now, Wutai is just a playground-slash-vacation spot to the rest of the world. A mere shell of the national power it once was."

"Oh? Hm." I felt enlightened but in the end, I didn't really care. Regardless of whether this was a poor nation now or not, that in no way detracted from the beauty, the history, the people I had yet to meet. I strode alongside the stream onto a sandy path that led into the heart of the village.

The houses were unlike anything I ever saw before in buildings. The clay roofs came to a tapering point, with shingles like lizard scales and each their four corners sported claws that reached for the sky. The doorways were bare and wide. A person could almost see everything in one house or another. But most houses and businesses had strange screens set just inside their doorways for privacy. I was madly fascinated in the Wutain architecture.

I blinked hard.

"What's that big tower over there?" I asked.

"It's called a pagoda."

"Pa... go... da," I said slowly to myself. "It's got a nice ring to it."

"The Wutai guarded that damned thing with their lives," Sephiroth said with a bittersweet grin. "They'll let everything else fall around them at Shinra's hands, but the rest of the world be damned if their tower of the gods falls. Such piety is laughable."

"Piety?" I stared up at the pagoda. I noticed how strangely built it was, stacked like blocks, each tier getting marginally smaller the higher it went. Five tiers. I wondered what it meant.

"Their faith, Drana. In gods and spirits, that sort of thing."

"I just believe in the Planet," I answered, though still confused about this piety business. Sephiroth laughed and patted me on the head.

"Let the humans believe what they want," he said. I slipped from beneath his hand and escaped from his side farther down the path. A pair of dusty looking boys crossed in front of me, running a circle around me and happily chattering in their native tongue. They were unbelievably cute, as most children tended to be. I almost wished I had a womb, that was... if I didn't have one. Soundlessly, Sephiroth crept up behind me, driving the children away with his ever-intimidating presence. "In the end, only the Planet matters."

I glared back at him wearing that pseudo-malicious smirk he loved so much.

I sighed. "That's true."

-

"You know how I hate dressing like this, old man!"

"A daughter of your distinguished background must mind her manners and accept tradition and responsibility. These bones are getting old, yes, which is why you need to start learning how to be a ruler. And dress like one, too."

"A lord should be able to dress however he wants. So if I wanna wear shorts and a tank top, dammit, let me wear my shorts and tank top!"

"Yuffie... be reasonable. You're almost twenty and you still haven't thought about your future, or the future of Wutai? Where's your pride in our nation?"

Yuffie huffed indignantly. She stood perched atop a small stool, arms perpendicular, as attendants swarmed around her body making these adjustments and that. Bundled in thick embroidered robes and headdresses, the girl struggled to keep balance and endure the weight. Her father, a bear of a man compared to most, but dignified and proper all the same, stood by with judging eyes. That girl just did not want to be tamed. The tenacity was admirable but did zero wonders for her image.

One attendant cinched Yuffie's waist, causing her to rock haphazardly on the stool.

"Watch it!" she barked.

"Lady Yuffie, you have to be still."

"I'll show you how to be-"

"Yuffie, bite your tongue," her father commanded.

"Pops, you know how humiliating this is?" the girl whined. "I've got a rep to maintain. I can't be the legendary Shinobi if I'm dressed like a frickin' doll. And I can't be a master materia hunter either."

"I know you mean well, Yuffie, but our nation wasn't built on materia and shinobi," the lord said. "Wutai was built on the back of its ruler and people as one entity. Two in harmony surpasses one in perfection, as I once heard. Wish I made that up myself, but the point is…"

"Okay okay, I get it," Yuffie cried out tiredly. Her arms fell heavily at her side, the gigantic bell-like sleeves flapping about and slapping her attendants in the face. "I still think these clothes are ridiculous, though. Now I know how you feel…"

"Lord Godo!" A new face appeared at the door of the fitting room. The socialite messenger had a worried expression, to which Lord Godo took an offensive stance.

"What is it?"

"There's word that some strangers are snooping around town." One had to love how fast word traveled across the village. Godo fostered a tightly knit community in his entire rule, and while it failed to win the war, the people never lost hope and strength thereafter. So it seemed that even they could keep together without his help, and under the eventual rule of Yuffie, he hoped.

"What do they look like?"

"Cloaked. But obviously a man and woman."

"Cloaked?" Yuffie said. "I wonder if one of them is Vin-Vin…"

The girl hopped off the stool and waddled out into the hall and through the courtyard. Some attendants hesitantly followed, snatching up the headdresses as they fell and the trails of the robes as they dragged. Once at the main doorway overlooking the village from a hill, she spied a suspicious, darkly dressed pair roaming along the stream.

"Hmm… I guess not. Who are they, then…?"

-

"I wonder if we can go in that pagoda. I'd love to see how it looks inside."

"It's a sacred monument and we're strangers in a strange land," Sephiroth cautioned. "We might not be so welcome."

"But it's so tempting…"

"You want to feel what it's like to live here?" he asked. I faced him, befuddled, but then I realized what he was referring to. I nodded slowly. He took a great step towards me, peering under my hood. "Let us vanish for a few days. Right here, into Wutai. But, we still wear our cloaks. A different continent does not make us exempt from prying eyes."

"Are you serious?" My face lit up like a true candle. I felt like a cup running over, pondering what it would be like really living here in Wutai. Even if only for a few days, I knew it would be a heavenly experience. It'd just have to be. But the state of my garden came to mind. To be here for a vague amount of days, any number of things could happen to my beloved flowers, aside from involuntary neglect. I was now thoroughly worried.

Sephiroth took immediate notice. "I see your delight but then... you become so unreasonable. I understand your concern for your... garden."

"I-I'm sorry, I just…" I sighed. "It's like a child to me. I can't have babies like you told me, right? So I have nothing else like that."

"It's better than any snot-nosed little brat, I'm sure," Sephiroth hissed. "A few days shouldn't put your precious 'child' at risk... Take advantage of what I give you. These chances don't come every day. And I can just as well change my mind. So. What's your decision?"

"I... I'd like to stay in Wutai a bit b-but-"

"It's settled. We stay in Wutai. Let's head to the inn."

The nearest inn was called Turtle Paradise, which also happened to be a bar. Sephiroth told me it was a place famous for its worldwide advertising, especially after the war ended. The unusual interior gave a clear impression of how worldly this business was due to its revenue. There was a jukebox stuffed into one corner, and banners and flyers plastered all over the walls of events that happened in other countries. Beyond those specific things, everything else had been decorated with a turtle motif. Little clay statues, paper lamps and tables. A fountain sat in the rear of the bar, with lily pads and tiny turtles floating leisurely within it.

I stood at the entrance while Sephiroth approached the festively dressed man at the counter. His gaze was suspicious but otherwise uncaring.

"Welcome to Turtle Paradise, traveler," he said in a buzzing voice. "Care for drink?"

"A room," my companion voiced. "Three nights."

"Forty-five hundred gil up front, sirrah. Four hundred for access to hot spring out back. Most relaxing for weary bones. What say?"

Sephiroth handed the man a small purse, not even bothering to check the amount inside. A fiercely studious eye crept upon the pouch then back to the giver. Eventually, the short man snatched it up, weighed and jiggled it in his hand and pocketed the money.

"Second door on right upstairs. Hot spring you find through way under stairs. Come down anytime for drinks. Happy hour begins a-seven p.m., twenty gil a glass; before seven, fifty gil. General store right next door. Enjoy stay at Turtle Paradise."

Just as we started to head to our room, Sephiroth stopped in his tracks to ogle a pair of men drinking at a far table. They were both casually dressed; one had wild red hair and the other was bald with sunglasses. Regardless of how harmless they looked, their observer stared relentlessly. I grabbed his shoulder, trying to rouse him, but like a bloodthirsty dog Sephiroth stood both alert and familiar. Whenever he went into posture like that, it meant he recognized something or someone. And those men were probably it.

"Do you know those guys?" I whispered.

"Likely. Let's go." Sephiroth tucked my arm under his and hurried us up the stairs.

-

"Did you see that, Rude?"

"Yeah. Hoods."

"Think we... should investigate?"

"Break time."

"Right."

-

I lay sprawled on what Sephiroth called a futon, examining a little turtle figurine he'd snatched for me earlier. While my eyes focused on the clay piece in my palm, my mind fumbled more with the concept of this strange bed. It was flatter than normal and didn't sit on any frame. The pillow was rolled and tied into a cylinder of down and silky fabric. It was so different compared to beds on the main and eastern continents, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from sleeping in it. The only remaining dilemma was Sephiroth's choice between the two flat beds. And before he left to buy dinner, I saw a glimmer of the plans he had in mind for later on. And only one bed was needed for that.

I'd save the vile grumpiness for when the time came. For now, I patiently awaited what new and delicious treats Sephiroth was bringing back.

"Your mindful loudness is unforgiving," his voice said from the hall.

I sat up, eager to see what he brought. "Whatcha got?"

"Happier to see food than me? I'm crushed." He strolled to the table and set a few covered plates down. I crawled up and lifted a lid on one of the plates, only recognizing white rice as part of the meal; the rest was new to me.

"What is this stuff?" I queried excitedly.

"Sea urchin," he started. "Fish. Oysters. Kelp. Sweet root. So on and so forth."

"Wow…" I breathed in the aromas, astounded more than I should have been. "You bought a buffet."

"When one's appetite beckons... what else to do than answer the call?" Sephiroth seated himself on one of the two large pillows that surrounded the table. He kicked off his boots, crossed his legs and proceeded to uncover all the plates of food. "One last thing."

"Huh?"

"Rice wine." A bottle emerged from a pouch strapped to his belt. Words were written on it in a language I didn't understand. Obviously Wutain.

"You mean like alcohol?" I asked pointedly.

"It's for me," he retorted with narrow eyes. "You can get your water downstairs."

"I don't trust that stuff…"

"Which is why you're not drinking it."

I snorted at him and reached for a plate. There were no signs of forks or spoons to eat with, so I just shoveled everything into my mouth using my fingers. A medley of tastes washed over my tongue. Sweet, bitter, tangy, salty, bland, even spicy. I was amazed at what all these tiny pieces of food packed within them. Back on the main continent, tastes were so segregated. Here they blended together in near perfect harmony. I wanted to applaud whoever it was that specifically made this food.

"Wow, so interesting and tasty."

"Drana," Sephiroth said suddenly. I stared up at him, my mouth stuffed to the brim.

"Mm?"

"Why do you eat?" he questioned woodenly. "You have no stomach."

I frowned.

"I eat because I want to…"

He merely stared in the same way I did to him.

"Please don't remind me... I know I don't have to eat. And I know I don't have to breathe or sleep or… It makes me feel human. So just let me do that, please?"

The kelp was too bitter for me. I swallowed it quickly, and then jumped to my feet.

"I'm going to get some water. Be right back."

"Hood."

I sighed, switched back around and snatched up my cloak. In one wide, fanning motion, I donned the plain black cloth and swept out into the hall in record time. The precaution was absurd, really and truly absurd. I wasn't leaving the inn; I was only going downstairs for a drink. I couldn't understand it, or him. But all I could do was shrug.

Then I saw those two men. They sat at the same table, wearing the same clothes, and probably nursing the same drinks as when we last saw them. Then again, it had only been an hour or so. Neither of them heeded my presence at the foot of the stairs. I had no intention of feeling relieved but I composed myself and headed to the counter where the innkeeper stood, cleaning out cups and pitchers.

"Ah, foreigner, what need you?" he asked with a perfect semi-circle of a smile.

"Ah... water?" I said.

"You... want water?" He nodded exuberantly and motioned to a giant urn behind the counter. He took one of the newly cleaned pitchers and dipped it in. I exhaled thankfully and took the proffered pitcher and some clay cups. "Have good evening."

"Thank you..." I fidgeted in my steps.

But then, I remembered.

"No reason to be scared. Sephiroth's just paranoid. Right..."

I returned to the room, where I found Sephiroth stoically enjoying his meal and wine. I sat the water pitcher and cups on the edge of the table and took my seat. I wasn't sure if I had an appetite anymore after what he said to me, but I was determined to show I wasn't bothered. I threw my off hood and shoveled more food into my mouth, while avoiding the slimy, bitter kelp.

The taste was real. It wasn't imagined. It was good, it was satisfying. It was something I could live for.

"What are you thinking?" Sephiroth asked.

A most ponderous question. So why had it been asked?

"Because I want to know," he answered.

"But you always hear what I think," I told him with downcast eyes.

"Not always."

"... I'm just thinking about how tasty this stuff is. That's all."


	7. Chapter 6: House by the Quarry

_**6: House by the Quarry

* * *

**_

-----

"Saristis, I'm sorry but this feels like it's turning into nothing but a wild goose chase. That Highwind character was no help to our cause. No one else is stepping forward in regards to what we're looking for. What left is there to do?" Emerson huffed as his gaze turned to the small oval window at his shoulder. It then snapped onto the red-haired scholar sitting at the other end of the cabin's narrow width.

Saristis himself had been looking out a window, taken as a diversion at ease during the flight. He carefully mulled over this and that, allowing each little notion to simmer and trundle in his mind. Steadily, his head twisted towards his colleague and quirked a dark eyebrow. As a closing act to his subtle motions, he shrugged.

"Anton, patience is a virtue in our profession," he said matter-of-factly. Emerson's broad shoulders heaved in insignificant exhaustion as reply. "Heh, although nothing considered helpful has yet arisen... A windfall will reveal itself in due time. Relax. We as scientists never surrender in our endeavors. We will persist down all avenues of possibility. It's in our nature, or did you forget that?"

"Not the point," he exclaimed. "We have been working this investigation for nearly a year. This creature, this undead general; they crop up, then they disappear. It shouldn't be so hard to find them. But no one will say a word. What is there to protect? Nothing, I'm sure. They don't know what we know."

"We don't know anything," Aridale interjected.

"Anything groundbreaking."

"Same difference."

"Hmm..." Saristis reached into the armrest of his chair. From it he pulled out an airphone and dialed a number to the cockpit. The scholar's thin lips pursed slightly against the receiver and voiced, "Hello, pilot? Yes... minor change in flight plan. Set a brief detour to Nibelheim."

"Nibelheim?" Emerson echoed.

"Thank you."

The phone returned to its resting place.

"Sar?" Aridale's head tilted to one side in question. Their superior only smiled, a tired display in spite of his age.

"Oh, just a stop on old Memory's Lane."

Saristis glanced at Evvey and Quelin who, as usual, sat out of the way of the main three. Evvey busied himself with his current obsession of the hour, scribbling away at his notepad and silently rehearsing old dissertations on materia. Quelin stared down into his lap, scratching at the patchy stubble of his chin and biting a hole into his lower lip.

Everyone else had to wonder how this man had gotten into their group. Then it became clear once again. Alexander Quelin was like a walking beacon. The frail scholar had survived extreme Mako poisoning at a young age, leaving him but a detached husk of his former self. Whatever that might have been. There stood the established fact that he posed as a scientist, but in reality, he was a guinea pig Emerson had rescued from questionable Shinra-affiliated labs.

He was the perfect tool to finally attain what they sought.

A way to the Promised Land.

The heart of all Lifestream.

Limitless energy.

Power.

--

The small Shinra jet streaked across the sky over the Nibel mountain range like a sole, gray hawk. Beyond the jagged peaks of age-old dolor lay Nibelheim. Altitude dropped, the aircraft's shadow growing to be more than the liberated soul of a bird. The sleepy, little mountainside town crept closer, higher. Eventually, the pilot descended along the west side where the terrain was at its most level.

At last the meager jet came to a complete stop. The sole engine powered down from a severe whine to a droning hum. The door popped seamlessly from the fuselage's side and creaked towards the ground, acting as the scholars' bridge to land. Saristis, Evvey and Aridale stepped airily from the plane, while Emerson shambled out his heft and a dazed Quelin snaked down behind him.

The pilot stood at the top of the makeshift stairs, arms crossed. "You guys gonna take long, eh?"

"Give us about two hours, three at the most," Saristis told him. "Can you handle yourself until then?"

The man shrugged. "Yah, yah, don't worry, your money's bought one of the best pilots since Cid Highwind himself."

Emerson sniveled quietly at this. That hack back in Rocket Town was one of the world's best pilots to ever grace the skies? True, he'd been good enough to have once been employed by the long defunct Shinra Electric Power Company and its specter of a Space Program. But that hardly warranted him as one of the best; he was merely one of substantial experience, to say the least. Vast prowess didn't always equate to paragon status. But knowing himself, he decided not to ponder it anymore for his own sake.

--

A scholarly bunch had curiously ambled into Nibelheim's lowly town limits; they looked so fresh beneath the glow of early afternoon sun. That sort of freshness here begged for conspiracy and other types of business. But any probing eye could see that the only business going on was that of children skipping and shouting about the water tower's stilts within the dirt and stone paved square. Amongst the gaggle of children, she stood. Her eyes narrowed accordingly, her wispy body bumped slightly by the innocent antics she somewhat oversaw.

Tifa noted the arrival of the lab coat quintet with all the processing power of a single detective agency.

She had simply filed them under the category of unsorted priority, despite this town's past with lab coats. The coats were expected for what lay in Nibelheim, but unordinary in just how... diverse they looked. What reason did they have to be in town? Unless they were the WRO team sent to clear out Shinra Mansion of its shady scientific dregs.

But they were early.

"Hmm…" The woman shook her head tiredly and glanced down at her weathered wristwatch. She turned to the frolicking children and smiled, clapping her hands to garner their much divided attention. Breathing in deep, Tifa called, "Alright, kids, I'm gonna call it a day."

"Aww, you gotta have time to play, Ms. Tifa. Why go now?"

"Um… I have things to do. You know us adults and our responsibilities. Makes us have to cut our fun short... a lot. Sorry…"

"Aww," the children groaned.

"What about Mr. Vincent?" asked one.

"Unfortunately..." Tifa nodded apologetically. "Never fear though, for tomorrow's a new day. And maybe I'll be able to bring Mr. Grumpypants along, too."

The lab coats had trundled into the inn, issuing a sigh of the tiniest relief from Tifa. Out of sight, out of mind. She smiled at the young faces huddled around her and departed for her old house brimming with sounds of life. Some of the WRO workforce had taken up residence in her childhood home, while others stayed at the inn. She didn't mind. Her home was open to anyone, though it wasn't quite her home anymore, and hadn't been so for nearly a decade.

After a minute of standing at the threshold, she went inside. The hearth burned within so she was welcomed with swirls of heat on her bared arms and legs. Meanwhile, workers shuttled between the kitchen and dining room, lounging and chattering after a hard day's work. But Vincent was nowhere to be found.

"Tifa?"

At least the very thought of him managed to somehow summon the man out of thin air.

She turned to the lofty figure standing behind her. "Oh, hi, Vincent. I was wondering where you were."

"General store."

"Oh," she exhaled. Grabbing his arm, she led him out of the foyer and into the living room. "I saw something strange."

"Hm?"

"When did you say the basement crew was coming again?"

"In another day or two. Why?"

"Hm... I saw some people in white coats outside," she said, looking hesitant. Vincent's face darkened threefold in response to her expression. "I was tempted to approach them but…"

--

"Well, I bet this place brings back memories, huh Sar?"

Aridale nudged Saristis as they stood together within the rustic establishment that was Nibelheim's only inn. The furnace off to the far left flared a deep, dusky red. The seasonable lighting and various styles of wood use was perfect— the oaken tables, the lacquered hardwood floor paneling, the tangy smelling wood burning, even the framed photos on the wall— for the rural setting. It had that air of laziness strong enough to derail the group. If not for Evvey. Evvey, always with the one track mind, ambled to the registrar's counter, negotiating prices for dinner rather than lodging. As was his task.

Saristis himself moved slowly to acknowledge his companion, shrugging shoulders in indifference. Instead, he inhaled the warm scented air and lifted his gaze towards the ceiling. With distance laced in his voice, he said, "Well, Jenna... I guess you can say that. It's been a very long time since I was last here. Not too many memories to come back to, but…"

"Right."

The history of this town swirled about the group like storm clouds. An unsuspecting town that fell victim to Shinra's games with humanity in the quest for power. It was glorious. It was despicable. It was intriguing. Saristis had to give his old employers credit. They ventured where few ever dared. They played with lives; they toyed with the blood of the Planet. All for the pursuit of happiness and power. Meteorfall had been the greatest opera ever seen.

And it was all due to the efforts of the Shinra Electric Power Company.

Emerson harrumphed, "Kit, get this show on the road, I'm starving!"

"Anton, shut up and stuff your gut back in your pants," Aridale snapped.

"I'm going to take a step outside," Saristis announced. "Call me when everything's ready."

Just as he reached the oaken doors and pulled the handle, a child sprinted inside squawking "Fweeeeow", arms extended like wings. He clipped the exiting scientist, causing them both to fly out of control, but only the boy was swept off his feet.

"Hey, watch it, Mister!" the blond-haired child exclaimed.

"Watch yourself, little one," the scholar admonished, fixing his lab coat.

The boy scoffed, rose to his knees and tardily dusted off his pants. "Eh…"

"Des! Thought I told you 'bout running all willy nilly!" The registrar leaned over the counter, shaking a warning fist at the boy.

A hush consumed the entire lobby, to which the child cast a net of chagrined glances. He muttered into his chest, "Sorry, Uncle Lovey…"

"Now I hope you try an' remember that. Run in back an' get cleaned up, supper's comin' soon."

"Okay." The child switched about and started for the front doors. But just before escaping through them, he turned back with a visage of utter brilliance. "Uncle Lovey, can I have some materia? If I did, then maybe Miss Drana would come back."

"We'll talk about that later, now git."

The boy was gone.

With that familial display over, Saristis shook his head and stepped outside. His eyes caught the small, fleeting form running around and disappearing behind the inn. For a time, he just stood at the doorway, leaning against the frame that sustained much graffiti over the recent years. From there, the scientist studied the whole of Nibelheim's town square. The afternoon sun lingered above like a stalwart drunk unwilling to leave his second home of a bar in the sky. The wind that blew down from the peaks was cool and crisp, kicking up curling clouds of dust across the ground. He was reminded of the old days when he had to traverse Mt. Nibel, as nothing more than an apprentice-aspirant, young and naïve.

"Ah, good old days, indeed," Saristis muttered to himself. "The mystery, the conspiracy, the jealousy, the hate... The people. My good old, terrible mentor…" His head sagged towards the ground, his bittersweet grin a rueful delight granted only to the mingling of dirt and limestone brick underfoot.

"... made my bug bite go away!" a voice cried. "Uncle Lovey told me I coulda died."

The scholar's ear perked at the chatter somewhere around the side of the inn. He'd stood poised at the threshold, ready to mentally record any and all lurid details.

"The bugs on Nibel are evil," another said. "You shouldn't've been up there anyways, Des."

"Hey you came with me, and so did Murry and Como, too."

"We, we wanted to find materia, too, that's all…"

"Miss Drana'll think we're awesome if we do."

"She's like an angel, but they don't exist..."

"_She _does, though!"

"Dad says she might be Ancient. They're more real-er than angels..."

"Oh, I gotta go. See ya, Danny."

With the scattering of footfalls off to elsewhere and that the end of that, Saristis stalked back into the inn all the while stroking his chin. The things children said often had little credibility, them being children. But the single word 'Ancient' caught his attention. This minor detail, he filed in the back of his mind. So someone here in Nibelheim was a potential Ancient. The others would love to hear this, he thought sweetly.

Before joining the others at a table, he pulled a phone from his pocket and dialed a number. "Hello, pilot? I think we'll be here for another extra hour or two. There's been a new, possible development."


	8. Chapter 7: By a Hair

_**7: By a Hair

* * *

**_

-----

The mornings in Wutai felt so surreal, somehow; both in and out of this world of ours. There was an energy here I hadn't experienced in forever, if at all. I almost caught myself fretting if the Planet was doing something, something that would've only been akin to the things Sephiroth liked doing. And for a minute it frightened me, but then I'd instantly drive my thoughts back to the wonderful energy that filtered into me from the land. I could only assume.

There came an urge to dance out of bed that morning, but Sephiroth had me pinned. Of course. To solve the problem of not enough sheets to go around for one futon, he pulled and piled ours together. Beneath it all, I grumbled and pushed him away, quickly and clumsily hovering to my feet thereafter. The sun stole into my eyes from the high window, dim but warm and all around pleasing. I snatched it up between my fingers and on my palms.

"You're so spirited today," that voice lilted.

I sighed in exasperation. "You can't feel it? There's so much life here. I wish we could live here…"

"One day."

I sensed arms snake around my waist from out of nowhere, then lift me off my feet. I struggled to get out of Sephiroth's grasp, though I knew it was never any use. I dangled there, staring at my knees and wriggling toes. I could have tolerated it, like so many instances long before. I could have. But a moist, soft feeling crept against the drawn crook of my neck, startling me not out of abruptness, but slight revulsion.

"The Lifestream's virtually streaming out of your skin," he uttered. "If I'd known Wutai would make you this excited, I would have brought you sooner. Now that would be the greatest feast..."

"How can you be so disgusting?" I groaned. Harsh words, I thought, were effective for moments like this.

He wasn't fazed.

In response, he produced this certain hotness against my back. That sure sign, or almost sure sign, of Sephiroth's intentions. Wanting to needing to feeding like some sort of bloodsucker was a favorite, though rare, pastime of his. Favorite, a word that when used was punishable by a lot of things, if only because of the wrong ways I used it. But his feeding... He would crumple— another loaded word— to quaking knees after a truly up close and personal bite, like a mean-faced doll with his strings snapped. The fury he radiated afterwards was tribute to the roiling weakness such, otherwise lethal, ecstasy gave him. He loved the taste but hated what it did to him. I had to admit to loving the sight, the shame within his feline eyes when it all made him like jelly. These cases showed that he couldn't always keep up that perfect apathetic veneer, even when he was my captor.

"You know that-"

"Yes, I know, I know. But we'll always be vulnerable to something... It's the soft skin, I think. H-human skin. If we had pelts like a monster, then maybe…"

"The Lifestream is just so pure. It is in your power, after all..." Sephiroth drew my wrist up to his lips, but refrained from taking a much wanted taste. He laid my hand against my chest, then slipped by me towards the bathroom. His hair did little to hide the taut muscle of his backside, forcing a blush into my cheeks. The situation was funny somehow, but then I realized I'd lost my chance to bathe before he did, as if it mattered.

Then he called, "You never think about taking one with me? For shame."

"No thanks," I blurted out.

"You know, a little common courtesy goes a long way. Humor me. Where did all your manners go?"

"When you start treating me with _the _utmost respect, maybe I'll return the favor." I nodded decisively. I almost felt as if I were quoting someone else. These sensations tended to leave me nonplussed. Were my words not my own? But what I said still held true. Sephiroth had to learn I wasn't a toy, which I'm sure was still his consideration of me.

My arm flew towards the doorway into the bathroom, yanking me along with it. I caught myself on the jamb, resisting Sephiroth's pull with vengeance. I laughed aloud, squatting down to the floor to try to find some sort of leverage.

"This isn't funny!" I cried. "You should be glad I don't know the things you do, because, oh boy, you'd be in a heap of trouble!"

"I didn't know you had such a sense of humor," he cackled over sounds of running water.

"One day, one day."

--

Elena wandered into Turtle Paradise, dressed down in a flowery red bikini and sarong, to which the innkeeper gave an ample eye. Her buddies were seated in the corner of the bar, swirling cocktails and lazing the mid-morning away. She pouted; how they could let themselves waste away like this on their 'time off' was beyond her. But now, top brass had plans for them. And she just had to please Tseng.

"Reno! Rude! Are you guys like literally glued to those seats? This place can't be that great." The young woman shot an inoffensive glance at the innkeeper. "When the boss brought us to Wutai, he expected us to have a good time, not just sit around and drown in booze…"

"Little girls like you would never understand," Reno sneered, lifting a glass.

"We live for the job," Rude added succinctly.

"So if you can't work, you just get smashed?" She hooted. "Wow, great logic."

"I'm sure you have some cock sucking to do, Elena. Tseng's waiting."

Elena blushed furiously.

"_For your information, _the boss received a request for our services. If you two aren't too busy being low-lives, maybe we can do what we do best."

Reno perked, running slender fingers through his fiery, pony-tailed mop. The Turks would never die. Like his comrade-in-arms said so simply, they lived for the job. And it lived for them.

"Oh yeah? Well, what's Rufus got waiting for us?" the beguiling Turk asked.

"Apparently... we got ourselves a great zombie general."

Rude's sunglasses slipped down the thick slope of his nose. His dusky brown eyes, normally so well hidden behind those shades, shot bursting rays of awe. His companion slapped him in the chest, hoping to thrust him back into reality.

"You serious?" Reno howled delightedly. "Oh man, I tell ya, Rufus's got a crazy sense of humor. Or did Tseng put you up to this? Either way-"

"Get off your asses and go see for yourselves."

"... you're serious."

--

I glanced down the stairs to see a young, sunny-headed woman clad for beachgoing. She was heatedly chatting with the two barflies, who each sported unusually rapt faces. I found myself curious enough to want to approach them, but demurred. Whatever was being said, the red-haired man seemed to bristle with feral excitement. On the other hand, the bald man just sat there like a rock, though a rock full of wonder.

My foot landed on a rather squeaky part of the stairs, raising heads in my direction.

I inconveniently lacked my hood.

I hadn't expected to still see those same men on our last morning in Wutai. And with Sephiroth in the shower, there was no one to tell me I needed to cover myself. So I had wandered on down for a new pitcher of water with nary a care.

"Well, spank my ass," said the fiery one, his tone like coy silk.

I lifted and bundled my hair in the crook of my left arm, speaking not a word.

"Nice legs. Now, how about a face to match?"

"Reno!" the woman's voice intoned, followed by a smacking sound.

"Ouch, watch it, bitch!"

"You're the bitch! We need to report to the boss. Now. Move it."

I heard the men quickly depart, ushered away by the young woman. I heaved a sigh from my chest. They hadn't seen my face— I hoped— thanks to the fact that I'd hardly made that great a descent down the stairs. I waited there, just to be sure they were gone from Turtle Paradise, and finally seated myself on the creaky step. I pondered. This land did indeed hold some interesting people, native or no. It was only a shame that I couldn't easily interact with them, not with Sephiroth's paranoia so doggedly latched to me. He wouldn't rest until sure his possession of me stayed uncontested.

"Sad…"


	9. Chapter 8: Clotho Spins

_**8: Clotho Spins**_

"_I saw a couple stars blink out last night. I wonder where they went. Did something swallow them up? Did they die out? Or did they just go take a nap? Wish I could reach up and see…" -Drana_

_

* * *

-----  
_

I was ready to fall out of Sephiroth's arms the moment our house appeared. I worried about my garden, despite all the attempts to put my mind at ease. Bugs and monsters were a constant threat, but when I was around, they'd keep their distance. Knowing my 'fatal' purity to any simple minded thing, we had our perfect black box of defense against pests.

But Wutai had absorbed me for the last few days. There was no telling what damage might have been done to my flowers, my children. Yet, as I neared them, I felt virtually no distress, nor neglect flooding out in little, covert waves of energy. My garden was safe. As I knelt there at the bed's edge, the blossoms bowed to the tiniest breeze wafting by. Safe.

"I didn't think you'd ever develop fixations," Sephiroth remarked. "Being what you are…"

"Um… obviously you see I walk, talk, and look like a human. So... I'll have 'fixations' like one, too, thanks." I ran my fingertips along each flower at the edge, checking for any physical sign of wilting or sickness. They felt strained, but only a little; other than that, everything was all right. Relief had spread through me in thin, curling rivers, while a tiny cascade of annoyance splashed up towards Sephiroth.

"No, there's something more, but I won't delve," he said. Then he added, "I'll leave you be."

"Thank you."

"Now where shall I put your things?"

My shoulders slouched at the mocking mirth in his voice.

The woman in me had taken over in Wutai, utterly and totally. When we visited the shops, I saw so many incredible trinkets, and with Sephiroth's mystery income— it was only a mystery because I had no idea where he kept it, much less how he earned it— he was able to spare more than enough gil. Statuettes, a couple of rugs, some jewelry, some clothes, even plants that I could keep indoors. Meanwhile, a sense of selfishness nipped at my heels, chasing me ever since we'd left the Occident. Worldly possessions, in excess anyways, like these never really appealed to me, but now… I only hoped it was a minor lapse in judgment, and something that would never quite happen again.

"There is no harm done. It's business, it makes the world turn. If anything, you are aiding that, you're aiding economy which aids the world."

"Aiding…" I blinked. "Hey, Sephiroth... have you noticed how nicely you speak of people and things now? I mean…"

"I still don't think highly of them but I would rather not hear you nag," he retorted.

I frowned. "I guess I forgot who I was talking to... Again."

"Don't sound so dejected. Some things will never change."

He finally disappeared into the house, leaving me to my own devices. I wouldn't grumble; I simply did too much. More often than not, it was pointless. He was too set in his ways, even for me. And I... I wasn't sure how set I was into anything, if set at all, beyond the fact that I stayed here with Sephiroth, to make sure he didn't stray from his given path. Aerith demanded it, Lucrecia demanded it, these numerous invisible faces demanded it. And so I did, too. That was my one truest way.

Even if it wasn't my choice.

* * *

---

Saristis had sent all but Evvey back to Costa del Sol. He'd deemed Nibelheim as his new secondary base of operations after overhearing an odd bit of information. Normally, things like this he paid no attention to, but 'Ancient' had always been a huge buzzword amongst scientists and historians alike. It pointed to a mysterious history in the Planet's past, to which many drove forward to fully uncover.

The Ancients were a race of obscurity.

Yet Shinra had managed to pull off the unthinkable: they had acquired a specimen of this ancient culture. Or two. But thanks to the events leading up to Meteorfall, that achievement had been all but lost to the Lifestream. Hojo, though innovative in his own middling right, just could not keep proper reign over his experiments. And everyone else in his field had turned against him. Or died. He was an outcast, with few confidants and fewer legacies.

All that precious information that Shinra could have gleaned, gone.

Until now.

Saristis would find out for sure, taking Hojo's legacy as his own. But this time, a different approach would be needed. No super soldiers, no monsters bred by Mako, no genetic engineering. He would go straight to the source. This creature. This thing from Ancient times.

The following morning, Saristis and Evvey had taken to the northeastern hills outside of town.

Shinra Mansion still loomed like a frozen beast over Nibelheim, and yet something new hung in the air. The stench of decadence was dwindling. Advancing upon the old monument, the scholarly duo decidedly understood what this new air was.

Men and women suited in beige buzzed about the mansion's grounds, carrying this and that, conversely aloud and eating breakfast on the run. Amongst the bevy stood a group of unusual faces. While one waxed familiarity, Evvey had to identify the others for Saristis. Cid Highwind at the fore, then Tifa Lockhart and Vincent Valentine, figures most prominent among the ranks of the World Regenesis Organization. His superior grinned crookedly.

"I'd say this is a big surprise, Kit," he said.

"Very, sir," the other responded.

"I wonder what they're doing…"

"Renovating Shinra Mansion?"

"Oh, that is a shame," Saristis clucked. "I'd say as it is now, it's a legitimate historical landmark. Renovation would be sacrilege."

"Hey!"

A figure, a woman, came walking towards them, her gait only a mince but threatening nonetheless. Her large, dark foreboding eyes pushed the men back a step when they at last stood face-to-face. She gave each of them a long, hard stare, knuckles firm against her slightly wide hips.

"No loitering, gentlemen," she said. "Or do you have business here?"

"Just out on a morning stroll, madam," Saristis smiled.

"I've seen you around before, haven't I? You're not part of the WRO, are you?"

"No, we're-"

"Just passersby," the redhead interjected, lifting a hand to silence his colleague in finality.

The woman's brow furrowed in doubt.

"Might I ask what's going on up there?"

"Just some simple rebuilding. Now if you'll excuse me…"

"By all means." Saristis bowed his head, practically his entire body, to the woman as a show he meant no disrespect. He knew immediately by the tone of her slender arms and legs that she was a creature governed by strength. As being a scientist entailed frailty by nature, he didn't want to get on her bad side. Evvey parroted the same.

"Good day."

When she was fairly out of earshot, Saristis leaned into his colleague's ear, whispering, "A beautiful yet dangerous specimen of female."

"Could have pissed my pants, sir."

"Take note, Kit," the scientist voiced.

"Already on it."

Together, the men trudged back down the hills to town.

An Ancient was in town, as was the WRO. It was a nice little correlation to note. Two institutions known for their devotion to the Planet. It was almost too perfect. Realization came that Nibelheim would play the stage once more for a new opera of epic proportions. One only had to wait for the main actor, or actress, to approach the stage. Saristis knew it'd only be a matter of time. This thing could not, would not, hide from him, not with what was at stake. A new chance for mankind to ascend to its rightful seat of power.

He nearly burst into a snicker.

If only Hojo could see him now.

* * *

---

I stood outside, mulling over the state of our house. It looked oddly quaint for a vision that came from the mind of Sephiroth. Or maybe he had someone else to figure out the design. Either way, the comfy-cozy air permeated every wall, board and shingle in a fairly unsettling manner. I wondered why I never really noticed it before. But of course. I had always preoccupied myself with tending to my garden. While Sephiroth built us up a small existence on the edge of civilization, I knelt oblivious to the many things that surrounded us, things not grounded in nature. Including this house, the powers he tried to demonstrate, and so much more I couldn't think of, not at the moment. I knew there was more to the world than just my garden. Our isolation had driven me to placing that flower patch above things that should have been just as, if not more, important. I was unsure of whether to feel guilty or just confused.

Confusion naturally seemed the easiest and cleanest reaction.

Sooner or later, it would all become clear.

And then, my heart suddenly ached.

It ached for Sephiroth.

"I know," I murmured softly. "Don't worry."

It was a common pang, one that I both ignored and acknowledged. A soul reached through me to the man, wishing to hold him. I had no doubt it was Lucrecia. I never questioned why part of her took up residence inside me, because I only assumed she wanted to be near him. And as per Sephiroth's usual response to the unearthly processes that cycled within, being what I was…

Lifestream.

From her place as part of the Flow of Life, the memory of Sephiroth gripped her and lifted her to the surface. How I wished that he didn't deny her as his mother. I felt the energy.

It was his. His within her, once tainted and now pure.

The Lifestream, the Planet, couldn't lie. It was virtually impossible.

"So it must be true... So much knowledge, if only I bothered to look."

_Maybe, just maybe, I can finally grow,_ I thought. _I can be a full-fledged human being._

"Sorry, Planet, I'd been going about this all the wrong way," I said, shaking my head. "All along, you were there. Maybe it's time I used what you gave me."

"If you were human, I'd call you crazy for talking to yourself."

"Huh?"

Sephiroth stood framed in the window as I passed it by. He smirked, and then vanished, only to reappear beside me. On an afternoon like this, he was typically found shirtless and smelling of some sort of oil or sweat. Were I sitting inside with him, I'd be the most favorable spectator to the careful ritual of him maintaining his sword. I never knew a blade needed so much caring for. And he thought _my _garden was an obsession.

"There's still time," I answered after a lazy scrutiny.

My shoulder was tempted to brush itself across his bare chest. The contact would've soothed Lucrecia's pang, despite the tension tightening over my skin. I held back, however. That maternal longing wasn't the only thing lingering about. I was lucky Sephiroth couldn't sense the tiny lust that haunted this skin. I could walk away and no one would be the wiser.

I sighed deeply and went inside the house. I concluded that tonight would be the night I got in touch with the Planet, or started to.

I had to think of what Aerith would do.

She was a funny ghost, but smart. Surely, I'd have loved some pointers.


	10. Chapter 9: Lachesis Bobs

_**9: Lachesis Bobs and Weaves

* * *

**_

-----

The lab coats just wouldn't take a hint. She punched, kicked and kneed them out of existence all she could, but they remained. For such flimsy things, they were tough as the common cold. A veritable oxymoron. But she found her mind meandering upon them at each and every turn. They looked too sneaky for their own good. Shinra sneaky. It was all too clear that they were up to something here in town. As to what it was, Tifa had yet to figure it out. And with rebuilding the mansion, she wasn't sure she'd have time to snoop around, either. She came to an impasse. And it visibly interfered with her work.

Vincent stood by with that penetrating gaze shooting out of his face.

Cid was off actually doing the job he'd been called to do. Relaying a prior meeting with those exact same scientists to his friends, he proclaimed washing his hands of them. And with that the end of that, the grump went about his business.

"I share your sentiments," Vincent announced.

Her own thought bubble popped, plunging her back to earth. She smiled warmly and shook her head through her haze. "Excuse me?"

"Those men. They stink of Shinra."

"I would've thought all of Shinra was gone, for good. We don't need any Hojo wannabes showing up, especially this late to a party that's been over for about three years." Tifa sighed, flailing an arm as she turned towards the mansion.

Vincent looked away.

"Maybe it's Drana," he said.

"What?"

"She's not your typical woman," her companion went on to say. He raised his left arm, twisting it slightly. "You don't remember? She brought me back. After decades of living in fear of myself..."

"Vincent…" The woman's shoulders slouched in recollection.

That one fateful day felt like yesterday when she took the time to recall it. It was the direct aftermath of Weapon's return and instant disappearance in Junon. The main players had vanished, leaving Cloud and Tifa baffled over what to do next. In the midst, no one had seen a conscious Vincent until days later, weak but insisting he could get around on his own. Bereft of that ominous claw, the gunman now seemed a little less sinister and a tad more sickly, yet... vibrant at the same time.

There was no one more perplexing than him.

"Actually, you neglected to mention Drana was the reason you don't... look like a ghast anymore," his companion remarked.

Vincent only blinked in return.

"She's a very special woman," he'd finally answered. "Even more…"

"You know something, don't you? Why haven't you told the rest of us?"

"I promised her... and... Sephiroth."

"Oy, don't get me started on Sephiroth," Tifa grunted, continuing her trek back inside the bustling shell of a mansion. Before reaching the doorless threshold, she looked back. Vincent hadn't made a move.

_That man is so slow, _she thought.

Finally, as if on cue, he motioned towards her. She giggled under her breath, then made her way inside.

"Tifa, get over here!" Cid called from nowhere. "We got a situation."

"What is it?" she asked, searching for his form amongst rubble and worker.

"Somebody spotted a kid running around in here."

"Oh, this is no place for a kid. Alright, leave it to me." The woman gamely cracked her knuckles and proceeded to survey the site. She'd been with enough children to know how they liked to hide, and in a place like this, no less. Swift and compact as mice, thinking they'll find a cool item or two. She and her childhood friends had been the exact same way, except for Cloud.

Tifa set about asking the workers in each area, which quickly led her to the old parlor below the mezzanine. At once, she came to stand next to the piano draped in black. With all the noises of work, the squeakings of a child would be easy to miss. But the woman's ears were keen. She threw one side of the piano's tarp into the air.

Nothing.

Too easy.

"Hmm..." Tifa grimaced playfully. "Alright, you... Come out, come out, wherever you are."

"Do I get a prize?"

The child entered the parlor forlornly from around a corner.

A dark shadow loomed behind him.

"Aw... You just got lucky."

Vincent's smirk was faint as he the boy towards Tifa.

"You look familiar," she said, kneeling. "In any case, this place is still too dangerous for kids."

"I just wanted some materia," he mumbled.

Vincent rolled his eyes. "Dare we have another Yuffie in the works?"

"Heavens forbid. But that's not the point. The point is, there's no materia in here, kiddie. Whatever gave you that idea?"

The blond-haired child kicked at the rotten wood beneath his feet, a particularly dismissive look on his cherubic face. Silence seemed to muster more of an audience from the adults than anything else. He sighed and huffed and tried every other display of frustrated defeat. But they continued to stare. At last, the boy flushed.

"M, me and some friends wanted to see the Ancient lady," he confessed. "We thought if we gave her some materia... she'd be our friend and come around more."

"Ancient lady?" Tifa glanced blankly at both Vincent and the boy.

"I think he's talking about Drana."

"Yeah, that's her name!"

A slight uneasiness pervaded Tifa and Vincent. The boy, on the other hand, only brightened with clenched fists. Between the three of them, only the man knew the 'absolute' truth. And what the kid said wasn't far from it. Thus, he twinged.

"So you guys'll let me have some materia, right?"

"Um, sorry, this house was picked clean ages ago, honest," Tifa said, gesturing to the exit. "Now run along."

"Aw man…"

"Tifa," Vincent whispered.

Initially, she only nodded. Then she breathed, "Welp, Drana… Looks like you got some unexpected followers."

* * *

---

I stole one of Sephiroth's books.

The things he read were strange. They weren't about joy or adventure, but science and combat and other things too far out of my understanding. There was even a book or two, though basic, about the Lifestream. The words of people and their experiences. I took one of those without looking back, sitting on the bedroom floor and flipping through it, skimming, taking into mind what I'd definitely read later.

A thought attacked me.

I'd never really held a book like this. Ever.

In Icicle, I touched not a single book. My memories of home were sharp and clear. It would've taken a miracle to forget all the finer details of my life back out on the tundra. I knew I looked so uneducated. But at the time, I doubted that I cared. As long as I was still welcome, such a thing was trivial. I lived in simple happiness; but now was the time to grow. Certain circumstances demanded it. Always demanding.

"Hum…" I sighed. "Well, while I'm learning to talk directly to the Planet, I guess I can use books as a little middleman."

I flipped back to the beginning. _The Flow of Life, by Bugenhagen._ I quirked an eyebrow at the author's name. On the inside of the book's cover, there was a short biography about the man. One of the Planet's greatest advocates of the philosophy of Spirit Energy.

I nodded respectfully.

Lifestream. The blood and spirit of the Planet.

"Where everything is given Spirit Energy before they're born and where they return to when they die. A never-ending cycle. Huh." I stared down at the hardwood floor. Some of what this book said was the exact same thing Sephiroth would tell me, or what Aerith whispered before she went away. Spirits, energies, birth, life and death, rebirth, even a most imprecise blurb about Weapons. Of course, there was nothing on me, at least nothing I would've recognized to imply something about me.

Click.

"Huh… Sephiroth!" I shouted.

Silence. Then the sound of softest footfalls.

He appeared at the door, shirtless. There was a thin sheen to his skin; the man had to have been exercising but he didn't sound winded one bit.

"Do you… Do you still have that disc?" I asked.

His currently human eyes fluttered at my question. "Disc?"

"The one about... me. And, and all that stuff."

"That disc."

"Yes?"

"I thought you wanted that buried," he told me.

"I-I know but... I actually want to know things now. Is... is that alright?"

"I'm not the one you should be asking."

He looked towards the chest of drawers next to the closet. Its bottommost drawer punched out noisily, and in a flurry of fabric, a small square of plastic flew out, arcing over the bed and falling at my knees. Sometimes, I could only grin at his needless display of power. True, it saved muscle power, but chosen over an action as simple as walking over to the drawers and pulling the disc out by hand I saw as kind of lazy.

"The mind is all that truly counts," he offered succinctly. "When the body dies, its mind and will are what remain, forever after. A body is just something to play in, and with, while your mind gets stronger for what lies beyond the Lifestream. You know me; I plan to have a good time."

"... right." I picked up the case and turned it over in my hands. Such an unassuming object for all it held on its shiny underbelly. "Oh shoot! We don't have a computer... Why don't we have a computer?"

"Do you want one? Intend to use it on a regular basis?"

"Other than looking at this disc, not really..."

"Then there's no reason to waste gil on one of those," Sephiroth said.

"Maybe you're right..." I huffed in defeat. "Maybe there's another way…"

"What are you doing with my books?" he queried.

"Oh... Heh, just reading. Thought I'd get a head start on... getting my mind stronger. Like you said."

"Good. Finally. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He switched around and went back to the living room. I waved him off then stared intensely at the disc in my hands. What else could be done? I couldn't take it apart. Reading a disc as is would have been impossible. I wasn't a machine. I pondered going to town. But knowing Sephiroth, he'd stop me before I even stepped foot off the porch. That fear, again.

I rolled my eyes. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you know tha- Lucrecia…!"

She was with me. The author of this disc.

If only she talked like Aerith did.

But she preferred silence, only content to be near Sephiroth, seldom sending pangs through me when she wanted to be nearer, still. There was little reason in trying to get her to talk. She was a spirit of pain. And she needed an eternity of healing that I didn't want to interfere with. So that path was hopeless. But with good reason. Lucrecia needed her rest. She needed her son.

"Sephiroth!" I shouted. "Have you been to town recently?"

"Why?" he called back.

"We should go to town. How about tonight? Before the store closes and I could get some special things for dinner. What d'ya say?"

"We don't go to town unless it's absolutely necessary, you know that."

I pouted towards the living room.

"Well, I can still go by myself," I said, carelessly flipping through pages. "I'll be sure to bring you something good-"

"Oh no you don't."

I gasped up at the shadow towering over me. His shadow, his figure. He smirked darkly, resting a hand on my head and stroking my hair.

"My dear… Against better judgment, I occasionally let you go to town on your own. You do know that to ensure your absolute safety, either you stay home or I accompany you at all times. It's as simple as that." His hand became heavy. I exhaled and threw him off, on the verge of exhaustion from his condescending tone.

"Well, then come with me," I told him. "It's not like I want to do this often. Didn't you hear what I said? _Special. _Special things for dinner. Don't we deserve it once in a while? Huh? Don't make me beg."

"I like hearing you beg."

"I don't know why I bother..."

--

It was an hour or so past dusk. So, the majority of Nibelheim was nice and shady for visiting. And then I entered into its limits, with Sephiroth floating behind me like a black ghost. We stuck mostly to the shadows up until the water tower, where a flock of beige-suited folks roved on by us, on their way to the lively sounding inn. I was tempted to drift away and try to join in but my companion kept an ever vigilant hold on me. Sephiroth's vice grip was highly controlled; his fingers could feel nonexistent, but in reality, they were there and only allowed so much freedom.

The general store was close to closing so we had to hurry.

We leapt inside the store's doorway a bit too hastily during our rush. Sephiroth had managed to get so far under my heels that my body pitched forward into the green grocer boxes at the front of the store.

"Ahh!"

"Careful."

He had set me on my feet long before I realized he stopped me from falling. I nodded my thanks, and then looked up to the clerk. She stood there by the counter, a look of subtle shock on her round face. I smiled nervously, though like usual, it was near perfectly hidden beneath my hood.

"Sorry," I laughed. "Y-you're still open, right? We, er I, just wanna grab some stuff..."

"... help yerself." She smiled and walked round to the back of the counter.

I gathered what I could: a couple of vegetables here that I didn't have in my patch, a spice or two, and finally a roll of bread. Sephiroth lingered at the entrance, arms crossed and watching me with all the severity of a prowling killer. My face grew slightly cold when I glanced at him, but I fixed my focus back on the things in my arms. With this and what we had at home, a special meal was definitely in order, regardless of its pretenses. Steadily, I approached the clerk at the counter and settled everything on its top.

"Nice night, ain't it?" she asked. I nodded. "Right, well, that'll be six hundred and forty-six gil."

"Here you go." I watched the woman slip everything into a bag and hand it over. Smiling broadly, I took the bag and went back towards Sephiroth.

He inexplicably jostled a foot forward, which made me giggle. Then I stopped.

A red-haired man a full foot shorter than Sephiroth had bumped into and clumsily moved from behind the other. His lightly creased, bespectacled face twisted into a brief apology.

"Just wanted to buy a drink, sorry," he said. His eyes then immediately riveted themselves on the both of us.

I saw a deadly flash of green. I had to have been the only one who noticed, however.

The man was wearing a lab coat, a detail unimportant to me but sounded lots of silent alarms in my darker half. "Um, what's wrong, Se-"

"Nothing," he voiced urgently. "Let's go." Sephiroth grabbed my arm and yanked me out the door with him, knocking the man to the side. I nodded my apology, to which he dimly grinned. And then we were gone into the evening.


	11. Chapter 10: Atropos Cuts

_**10: Atropos Cuts to the Finish**_

"_Learning is some tricky stuff. If you don't know where to look, then it's definitely a hard road ahead. You'll end up learning the wrong things and getting completely lost in the process. But… that just makes it more adventurous trying to get back on the right track. And adventure is fun, right? I learned…" -Drana

* * *

-----  
_

"Kit, the others are on the way, right?"

"Yessir."

"They won't believe it, they won't. I think we've hit the jackpot... Now all we've got to do is figure out where their little rat's nest is. I've got literal butterflies, Kit. I saw them. Two odd characters in the general store. Black capes. You'd think it was Professor Hojo's mystic Reunion all over again. But I saw one of their faces. It was a woman. The shape of her jaw, so fine and round. You'd think I was in love by the way I sound. Oh… Kit. To think, we might have found her, it. AND the general."

Saristis took the deepest breath his lungs would muster and dropped himself soundly into a chair around an outward corner of the room. Kit went to the window and stared out over the dusty townscape, notepad flipped open in hand but without a present purpose. Instead, he watched the shadows bleed together in the square, pooling under the old water tower and slinking up its stilts. He hadn't known the nights to be sinister looking in this sleepy little town. But its history allowed it this atmosphere. Always.

The sweet taint of Shinra.

Kit adjusted his goggle-glasses and went to sit on his bed which was nearest the window. Something about waking up to an open portal— and the southern exposure of whatever little there was in Nibelheim— stirred his creative juices shortly after waking.

"If that was the long lost general... No, regardless of who it was, chills ran down my spine. Something abnormal… Unnatural. Oh Kit, if you had only been there with me." The redheaded scientist laughed aloud as he tipped back in his chair. "Oh, if Quelin were here... He would probably die. He's so fragile but we'd need him to make sure we were in the right place. Otherwise, I'll have failed my right to make an educated guess."

"Continue to think positive, sir," Kit said from across the room.

"Oh, I do, Kit. I do. I've nothing to lose. The only way to go is up." Saristis sighed comfortably. "We'll need to check in with the Turks in the morning. We can't have a moment to lose."

* * *

---

A cloud of darkness engulfed Sephiroth.

As soon as we'd left the general store, it bled out of his skin in awful wisps, smelling like the death of countless people. It was a tremendous sadness, a mystifying hate, and unbridled fear all rolled into one. It was an aura I'd never seen or felt in him, never before. I could have feared for my own life. He didn't speak a word, but his normally unassuming vice grip cut a vicious, monumental volume into my arm. It only stopped when we reached home, where he stripped off all his clothes and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door. And he stayed in the shower for what seemed like an eternity. But no amount of showering could make the cloud go away. It lingered in the living room, threatened to turn everything black.

I stayed in the kitchen, busying myself with food and dishes.

An angry shiver rattled my entire body. Wondering. "That man… Could, could he be the reason? But why?"

His mind was blocked off.

The cloud menaced the whole house with black gossamer claws. It scared me, baffled me, even urged me to anger, hate, and sadness as well. What was it about the man that alarmed Sephiroth the way it did? Why, he looked harmless. Was it the coat?

"Lab coat," I said to myself.

I remembered. Sephiroth had a fond hatred of the Shinra Company. And scientists. When he talked about them, this black cloud never arose. Never. It was always a bloody red. So there had to be something else. But what was it? Was it because I was there? I had to find out.

Dinner was done, but Sephiroth still kept himself holed up in the bathroom. And only a fool would've bothered trying to reach him through the door.

So I ate alone in silence.

So I sat in the living room reading a book of his.

So, finally, I prepared myself for bed.

There was still no sign of him by the time I closed my eyes for the night.

* * *

--

My awakening felt rather strained, something uncommon for me because I loved getting up in the morning. It wasn't until I actually awoke that I had at least partly understood why.

"Oh..."

A naked Sephiroth straddled me like a pillar of salt with legs, his face a deadpan mask that could not have been more disturbing at any other moment. The black cloud was thin, less pervasive than it'd been last night. But it infused something cold and evil in his toned features. I drew the covers half over my face in an effort to shield myself from his feline glare. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I feared the cloud would fly out of his mouth and try to hurt me. There was no helping the fright and the fretting, no matter how ridiculous it got.

"Don't be scared, Drana," he whispered, his lips with a seductive sheen I found menacing.

"G, good morning," I said, forcing a smile.

"Good morning, little angel," he returned, stroking my cheek. "My angelic treasure that no one can ever take away... Not without going through me."

"Are, are you okay... ? I mean, last night, at the store, what was it about that-"

"Quiet."

"But, I want to help you," I told him. He took my hand and laid it against his chest. His heart rapped dull and sluggishly.

"Aren't you just precious," he hissed. "All mine. How I'd love to show you, how much you're mine. No one else's. They can't take you. They won't take you. Not without going through me. You know that... don't you?"

"Uh, uh I... guess."

"All of you. You belong to me. My Promised Land. Not merely the road... Your power is mine. You are all mine."

"I'm a little... un-uncomfortable, I-I'm sorry." I gnawed on my lip and held my breath. There were few instances where I wanted to fly away from it all. Now, the feeling screamed to be acted upon. Everything seemed ready to turn to pieces, to be so far scattered and so far wrong that what else could be done? His loins were hot against my stomach, hot enough to start a fire. Not normal, not normal at all.

"I need to show you that you're mine. That no one else can have you. And I need to show them… I need to teach them a lesson. No one will touch what is mine. No one will even think about what is mine. You, you're mine."

The cloud surrounded him like a halo of gore.

His hips churned in a way that revealed a growing fire. His hands fell heavy upon my shoulders, fingers pressing deep into my neck. There was something insatiable in all the parts of his body and how they moved. It only meant one thing. And what it was caused me to cow into something small, too small, beneath him. The will of dominance. The sting of lust. The collar of control. His fingers itched with the intent to choke it into me. I knew it, I felt it, I saw it.

Sephiroth had checked out for the moment.

Something else was here, the whole of which I only saw a glint in the past.

"When I'm done with you, all you'll ever want is me." He grinned, tongue fixed at the corner of his lips.

"I-I understand that... you're a little distraught right now. Distraught, yeah…"

"I'm as clear as the sky," he uttered, peeling the covers away from me. He shifted forward until he was almost completely sitting on my chest, his hands shifting from my shoulders to gently wringing my neck. The heat burned across the bosom of my nightgown, even stifled my breath.

"I-I'm sure there's, that there's a better way to go about this... Sephiroth?"

"Oh, why don't you ever want me? Am I not good enough for you?" He pulled away with a mock look of disgust. But in the background, his hands acted on an independent mission, gathering my nightgown into tight, heavy bunches. "I grew up in a harsh world... so I am a harsh master. But I care. I care for you. It's just a shame that I have to remind you so often who's the owner and the owned. This will be the last time. I will take especial care to brand you with this truth."

"A, Aerith..."

I closed my eyes.

For whatever happened, happened.

It only took seconds for Sephiroth flip me onto my face, to separate cloth from skin with little more than a stern whip of fingers. He chuckled softly as I struggled to get a fixed grip on the nightstand, to no avail. He groped. He squeezed. His fingernails dug in slowly, eliciting icy then hot crescents of pain. The full length of his body went flat against my back, scorching heat bubbling out of him into me. These extremes of hot and cold pressured into one body were maddening. I couldn't bear any of it.

"One can't always be gentle.

"I've known. Your body can handle so much more. More than I can ever dream. No holds barred, my dear. No more mincing over baby skin." Sephiroth grinned wide against my ear, that I could feel his teeth and searing breath. His hands hooked and clawed into the underside of my thighs as he shifted down between them. I withheld all yelps, all twitches. I hoped for hope that maybe if I clenched my teeth it would nullify some of the pain, that the uselessness would be a nice little diversion.

"Se…"

"That man was a follower of Hojo. Of Shinra, whom I abhor with passion..." Teeth sank into the nape of my neck, not yet tempted to break the skin. "I never forget a face. I never forget."

He pressed hard. I groaned.

"But... why..."

"I pray the light will be good this time. The best I never had in life…"

-

_Could you tell me something? Please? No one's ever told me... No one's ever told me the answer to my question: Who's Drana? Who is she? Who is she to have this life? Why is she to have it... That's what I want to know.  
_

_I blinked up at the black sky, the streams of light playing amongst the stars and the Great Heart. It was my dream come true. The womb of the Planet embracing me within the tranquil streams of its lifeblood. The grace of melodic coos, hums, and muted whistles to my ears. This was music I could sleep to, when and wherever. Here I felt welcome most of all. It felt more like home than Icicle ever would. Or anyplace._

_Was this where I truly belonged?_

_I was Lifestream._

_I was born straight from this very blood, unlike the rest of mankind. I wasn't given this energy to be born with it from a human womb. I was this energy. Supposedly. Supposedly by Lucrecia's thesis. Supposedly by Sephiroth's and Vincent's and who knew who else's insistence. I was the purity that opposed the impurity._

_Chaos. Vincent's recollection of calling that name out. That black umbra. Had that been Chaos? Where was it now? He told me it'd left his body, left him mortal and free. So where did that leave this mysterious impure thing?_

_I am Drana? No, there's got to be more. Am I? I am... born of will? Whose will? Your will? Aren't we all? You have to tell me more, please... It's all so hard to understand. I can't...  
_

_The Great Heart twisted down on its axis. The movement was so delicate, I didn't even notice. That big yellow orb seemed so alive, not like the moon, never like the moon. I was always told that the moon was little more than a huge hunk of rock spinning in space, shining on us reflected light from the sun and the Planet. But this. Though it didn't throb like a heart, or look like one at all, I called it by how it felt to me. A heart._

_For a moment, I brimmed with love. Love for everything. Everyone. Even Sephiroth._

_Even he, as he tore this body asunder.  
_

_I gazed into the river of Lifestream as I waded. Every unfurling ribbon of green-white light strove to wind its way to, through and around me. Did they want to be part of me? With Aerith, wherever she was, and Lucrecia, who sometimes pulled at my heartstrings, and faceless ones content with just watching and mulling from deep down. I wasn't sure I could handle anymore._

_He's… I feel like letting go. Should I go back? But I still have things to talk to you about.  
_

-

I cried.

"Mine. All of it. All of you. Beg, Drana. Beg..."

I never shed a tear. My body felt a pain I never knew, but I could shut the feeling out of my mind. Sephiroth, a dangerous beast, tender and severe in matchless unison.

I breathed in the Lifestream that collected on the pillows, the sheets, in my hair. I tasted its wateriness as it poured out into my mouth. I blinked its coolness as it dripped into my eyes. My shoulder opened as a humble pool from little I could see of it. Sephiroth bathed in it, teasing and rocking lazily atop me. His hand wriggled within the ragged, gaping sink, sending a sickening sensation throughout my body and cutting all feeling through my arm to the wrist pinned beneath his knee.

"Why can't you ever say how good this feels? God and angel in union." He cackled drunkenly, hooking and twirling a finger in my mouth.

I hated the delusion rising in his voice. I wanted to smack him back to reality but I was trapped. He had me.

"Drana…"

The black cloud.

I sensed it. Fusing with the red cloud of lust, becoming unimaginably bigger. I couldn't see it, only feel it. Dread gnawed at my every pore.

And a single black feather fell.

* * *

--

_From Sixth: Long ago, I had an idea… I didn't want to connect everything too much, so much but it's a habit, unfortunately. Too much cause and effect, correlating crap. Loose ends? Oh well. Funny, the original chapter was... so much of a poor lemon-lime, whatever the fuck you call those things. I wanted to… maybe get away from that. But in the end, I guess I decided to keep it in some form or another. I drained the 'love', though. Now it's Sephiroth being a progressively possessive creep. It's an okay speculation; funky upbringing can bring out the psychosis in anyone. Hell, even good upbringing. People are so messed up._

_P.S.: You know, I would have rewritten this entirely instead of some covert editing in the midst of late night boredom (circa 2010), but I actually want to move on with some things. Sometimes. Mm. Quite.  
_


	12. Chapter 11: Watching

_**11: Watching

* * *

**_

-----

He had gone.

In total silence.

Other than a few muddled whispers.

His eyes, achingly human and sad, had strayed to mine, crusted half closed with light. They said nothing. They wouldn't. I smirked inside. There was no lying here, not in this moment of truth. He understood what he'd done in the name of possession.

He'd meant to tear this body apart. To show me the power he thought he had over me, over others. And he did a very good job at it.

I couldn't move. I didn't dare move.

So I watched the little black feather perched on a sea of folds beside me. It shined so strikingly. I wanted to know where it came from. But as soon as Sephiroth had vanished, it floated off in his wake and dropped to the floor.

A strange feather, that.

Then I blinked.

Maybe the cloud had become real. Something made of feathers, like wings. Black wings. It was a fancy thing to ponder. Sephiroth with wings. Like a real angel, a dark one, an evil one. Would he drift from his path? As if he hadn't already begun to do so... Aerith wouldn't be happy; Lucrecia would probably turn back to aching all alone on some far-off plane. Though he made progress, at times it was too little, maybe even too late. And Shinra seemed to haunt him no matter how far he'd get away, as the evil's source that tainted him.

Was he happy with this?

I couldn't sense him in the house anymore. I was all alone.

I croaked out a laugh. "Poor Sephiroth… We, we just don't know what to do with ourselves, huh... Is that why Aerith thought we'd be perfect together? You're all such silly people..."

Noises soon rose and fell in the living room.

Not one of them sounded like Sephiroth.

* * *

---

The beach rose up smoothly onto the horizon. Midmorning was one of few ideal moments to see the waters at their sparkling bests. They'd even managed to soothe Sephiroth's human eyes as they lulled upon the boundless blue. He clenched his fist over the mass he held, letting its black blood drip between his burning white fingers. He looked down and glowered. How had things come to this?

"So, Hojo's come to haunt me again?" he said. "But... where are you yourself? I know you were never one to depend on lackeys. Too much of a liability. Are you dead? I should hope so. But that man. He still followed you. Maybe he wants to finish your dirty work? Ha."

He threw the mass in the sand, watching the feathers fly and scatter.

"Mother, have you come back for me?" Sephiroth smiled. "I knew joy in your strength. But I find joy in Drana's strength, as well. She's what I truly sought to obtain. The Lifestream's power at my fingertips. The very life of the Planet. And she's mine. All mine..." His emerald eyes rolled up to the sky, spying the faded image of the daytime moon. It hung quietly towards the north while the sun continued to creep to its zenith from the east.

A once dream of space.

He shook his head. That had been ages ago. This was now.

"Damn you," he cursed musically. "Why should I have to feel guilty? You need only me, you want only me, you obey only me. I must do what I can to make sure you understand. Otherwise you'll fall into the wrong hands. His hands. I know what he wants. Those Shinra lab rats only ever want one thing. And they will destroy who and whatever they want to get it. Realize... this is only 'tough love'. For my dear treasure."

* * *

---

The noises didn't dare come any further than the bathroom. Were they afraid?

For the moment, I was crippled. I was profoundly easy prey.

Who or whatever they were, they had to know what I was. Either the spilt Lifestream invited them or kept them at bay. In any case, I laid in suspense, longing for these prowlers to show themselves. I wasn't going to be afraid. This had happened to me before. I was saved, then. Would it happen the same way again? With Sephiroth gone, I was alone. Staked in the middle of nowhere.

But I wasn't defenseless. So, why did I always act it? I wasn't sure.

"Come on," I mouthed, hoping I was heard even when I made no sound.

They slithered, they hovered, they chirruped like baby birds. Brilliant blues and greens with streaks of red cascaded into the bedroom. Weird little round bodied things with long whiplike tails and mouths like spiders. Huddling around my side of the bed, their flat forms pitched upwards, wanting, needing, trilling primal needs to me. Monsters. All at once, they seemed so sweet yet so deadly. Like children with knives. Dear, forsaken children. At one time men and now, beasts. Millennia ago.

I smiled a melancholy smile at the begging creatures.

With all my heart, I willed my arm over the edge of the bed.

"Wh, what do you want... ?" I asked. "Repast... or release?"

I nodded.

The gaping hole in my shoulder bled fresh, trickling down my arm to the floor. Some of the things flopped down against the hardwood, sucking up the liquid light. Others latched onto my arm. I sighed, feeling many tiny teeth dig in.

"Drana."

"Wh-wha-"

"Shh. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

For the first time in my life, tears brimmed in my eyes. Real tears. I wept. Softly, soundly, happily. I cried, "Aerith…"

"Aw, why the big tears? Did you miss me that much?"

She was no different than when I last saw her. It'd been a few days after our ordeal with Lucrecia. Only I saw her. She didn't speak. She only smiled, that smile like the usual heavenly beam. And then she vanished. And I didn't see her again for a long time. Until now. Those same big green eyes, flawless oval face, and long, pretty brown hair tied back in a pink ribbon, curls framing her cheeks. That pink dress almost down to her ankles, offset by the brown boots she wore, seeming more fit for garden work than simple daily footwear. And that short, short red jacket she wore, sleeves with metal cuffs stopping just below her armpits. String tied like a necklace around her neck. Plain yet functional metal bracelets. All veiled behind her being a ghost.

This was what I remembered and how she was now.

"He really did a number on you," she tsked. "Naughty man. This isn't what you do to someone who just wants to help. You should really give him a good scolding when he gets back."

"Aerith…" I reached up for her, though the parasites made it a painstaking task. But it was worth it. She lowered a hand to mine. And I could feel her, really feel her. So cool, so soothing. Like a mother's touch.

"You're too big to be my kid, you know? But that doesn't mean I don't care. I care, a lot."

"I, I've been lost," I confessed, burying my face in the soiled sheets, "without you..."

"Aw, sweetie." I felt her hand touch my hair, taking a moment to peel it from my cheek all caked with Lifestream. "Look, now you got materia crystallizing everywhere. And these things. Huh... I'm beginning to think that even the Planet makes mistakes just like her creations. Sometimes big ones. Something gets lost in translation when you two communicate. It means well, but it's still going about things the wrong way. And you go about things the wrong way. That's what I think. Monsters? The risk is crazy. Weapon was the only one closest to being a successful champion. And even that fails in... what's the word... implementation. Right? Your submission takes the cake, though."

I loved hearing her talk. She sounded so educated. When I heard her voice, all I wanted to do was listen and learn. She could have insulted me for all I cared.

She giggled. "Oh Drana, I don't know anymore than you do. Well, true, I've been around as a conscious being a bit longer than you have, but... If we all just listened to the Planet…

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she murmured tenderly.

"He's... gone crazy. I saw something."

"You mean this?" With her other hand, Aerith reached down and picked up the fallen black feather. Already, it was starting to wither, turning gray and dusty around the edges. Her scrutiny of it was so blank as if she'd never seen a feather before in her entire ethereal life. "Hmm. This is a remnant of the Calamity. Maybe you've heard about it? He's finally begun shedding it. See this? You _are _making progress, slow progress but it's progress. Sephiroth's on the way to becoming a real boy, a real man. Human. I think you should pat yourself on the back. No one else has even dreamed of this happening. Not even Cloud. Never Cloud, unfortunately."

"Cloud…"

"Rest. There's still hurdles ahead. These things will help you heal. Release, right? Given the right incentive, they'll do it. Now close your eyes." She nodded encouragingly. I grinned tiredly, and then closed my eyes as I was told. "Sweet dreams. I know you'll figure this all out."

"Mm…"

* * *

---

"Jenna, Anton, Quelin, you're here, at last. I was starting to get a little worried. A little impatient, too, heh. I hope you've brought everything. We need to get set up right away in preparation for bagging the big one." Saristis laughed aloud, slapping his hands together and marching around the lobby like a parade marshal. Aridale and Emerson looked on with the exact same expression of scathing wonder, a first ever mutuality between the two. The closer their superior got to attaining his goal, the more the man acted like a loon. An enthusiastic loon. Telltale reaction of most scientists at this point in their journey.

Quelin only trembled.

He was hugged thusly by the smiling redhead who then endearingly asked, "Do you feel it? Can you? I hope to all that is science that you do. Are you alright?"

The twiggy man lifted a finger. It pointed to the western wall.

"Ah. I'm hoping close?"

Quelin nodded.

"Ah, good, good."

"Hey!" shouted the innkeeper. "I hope you ain't bringin' all that crap into my inn!"

"Listen," Emerson piped, "we'll pay extra for you to put us and our 'crap' up for a little while longer. Besides, I'm sure this is the most business you'll ever see again in years, so you better appreciate it. Sir."

"Humph!" The grizzly man stomped away into a back room.

Saristis directed Quelin back outside, to the wrought-iron arch harking the entrance to town. Quelin squatted suddenly on the limestone, quivering and pulling at his hair. He mumbled incoherently, whimpered and yipped quite like a frightened dog. His superior grinned, accustomed to and unfazed by the sad display of mental disability, as a finger pointed again to the west.

"Promised Land, here we come."

The two men walked back into the inn's lobby, where Saristis motioned to Emerson. "Methinks we should get a scout to search the west lands. Quelin definitely feels something is there."

"No more wild goose chasing?" he asked.

The redhead cackled. "Whole new ballgame, Anton."

"About time."

"Don't screw this up, Em," Aridale voiced from the far end of the room. The stocky man sneered and waddled out. She then approached her colleague, pressing her shoulder to his, a look of mirth on her sly face. "So, Sar... How was it? Was our beloved, ambitious boss impressed?"

"Oh, it's too early to comment on that just yet, my dear."

Pause.

"I nearly forgot. What about the Turks? Where _are _they?"

"Finishing up business in Wutai. They should be flying in in about a day or two. Or... paraphrasing what Mr. Reno said, whenever they feel like it."

"Aha."


	13. Chapter 12: Seasons of Nibelheim

_**12: The Seasons of Nibelheim

* * *

**_

-----

Rufus grimaced, grinding his cane into the dirt and stone and letting the ache in his leg sway him forward. Nibelheim was the last place he'd be caught dead visiting. He knew just as well as anyone this godforsaken town was best left to the eggheads of Shinra's bygone days, and now, not even them. This town wasn't fit for anything anymore than acting as the reminder of a terrible past. The former president snorted and rolled his eyes. Why did he even accept this man's proposition? His days of looking for the Promised Land and building a Neo-Midgar were long over. He now wanted peace and quiet with his friends and subordinates, to start over with a new business, in a new place, under a new name. Start afresh.

But...

It was curiosity.

He let it get the better of him.

The Junon incident grabbed his interest.

"Like old times, eh Boss?" Reno snickered.

"Unfortunately," Rufus sneered. "Nibelheim, fall of discontent. If only people knew, would they despise you as much as they did Midgar?"

"We should check out how the guys are doing at Shinra Mansion," Elena said. "Don't you want to see, Boss?"

"As long as I know they're doing their job, no, I don't."

Tseng had stood silent behind the rest of the group until decidedly directing them to the nearby inn. He lent an obligatory arm to Rufus, and together, they entered the establishment. The lobby was remarkably calm, except for men chattering at the counter and a boy sitting on the floor reading a book aloud. At the sight of the Turks, they fell into a distant hush.

"Well, hey, I know who you are!" said the man behind the counter, grinning mysteriously. "Lil' Prez."

"I'm not that 'Lil' Prez' anymore," Rufus laughed. "He died with Meteorfall."

"Huh?"

"There's some lab coats staying here," Tseng pressed with a cold gentleness.

"Them? Oh, them fools is upstairs, runnin' up my electrical bill. I got half a mind to-"

"Thank you." Tseng nodded politely and ushered Rufus and the gang up the stairs. Just as soon as they ascended, they were met with a pacing young man, notepad in hand, rehearsing nothing in particular to himself. He looked up at the newcomers through his goggle-glasses and flashed something invisible their way.

"Rufus Shinra," he began, "former president of the now disbanded Shinra Electric Power Company, employer of the Turks, mystery benefactor to the World Regenesis Organization, thought to have perished in Weapon's attack on Midgar during Meteorfall circa Era Eight, but merely suffered head trauma and shrapnel to the right leg, resulting in the tearing of key ligaments and-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, buddy, we're not here to confirm your background check on our boss," Reno interrupted. "Freak."

"Well, I'm impressed," Elena added under her breath.

"How did you…" Rufus chuckled, though bewildered by the man's being well-informed. "Where is Saristis Noah?"

"Next floor, sir."

"Mm." The Turks continued up the next flight of stairs to the inn's third and final floor. Noises of office-like busybodying abounded, followed by the laughing of one and the tittering of another. The babbling lab coat from below winged past the group into the room to join the revelry. The men and woman quickly fell in line behind him, spying his colleagues huddled around a desktop computer on a roll-away table. Their heads jerked to one side at the sudden presence of the sharply dressed Turks.

"Ah, Mr. President, I'm so glad you could make it," said the red-haired scientist sitting at the helm of the machine. He motioned them to come nearer.

Rufus beamed. "I appreciate the formality but Rufus will do. For now."

"I've never known the Shinras to be so modest, least of all you," he replied with a smile. "You were just as shrewd and ruthless as your father in the company's heydays. If not... more."

"That was then."

"Of course." Saristis nodded, saying next with reserve, "Time changes all things, doesn't it…"

"So you wanted to see me in person?" Rufus asked, staking his cane sharply between his loafered feet. The metal stick had been carved in the likeness of his beloved shotgun; maybe it even was his firearm itself. Something dangerous made to appear relatively harmless, or harmless to appear relatively dangerous. The ambivalence in its design was distressing to an uninformed eye.

"Your precious Turks. Your wealth of Shinra secrets that we hope you haven't discarded." The scientist stood, sidestepping the woman next to him, and approached Rufus and his posse. His bespectacled eyes shifted from one suit to another. Reno, Rude, Tseng, Elena. Back in his apprentice days, there had been more than these select few, but that was when the Turks had been under older and ultimately unreliable management. "I think you already know from our talk on the phone."

"Zombie Sephiroth, right?" Reno said, digging a finger in his ear.

"I... Yes, Zombie Sephiroth. There are reports and sightings regarding his likely existence. Not to mention his accompanying what could possibly be construed as an Ancient, or more. We're very excited but we see the danger that lies just beyond the scope of this road we're traveling." Saristis leaned back against the desk while the woman scientist promptly took up his seat, clacking away at the keyboard with considerable verve. The redhead smirked thoughtfully at the noise, running fingers through his hair, and then he continued, "I _know _that this draws your attention, otherwise you wouldn't be here and you wouldn't have answered my calls. Birds of a feather flock together, am I right?"

Rufus's brow knitted in vague annoyance, but instead of airing his ire, he heaved a heavy sigh.

"We'll see what you come up with first, then we'll consider further involvement," Rufus replied.

"Not what I wanted to hear, but it's better than nothing, eh?" Saristis nodded amiably and went to shake hands with the other. Reno, Rude, and Tseng were reluctant to part from their boss's fore, allowing them a tense shake.

"Dr. Noah. Now, why do you really need us?" Rufus asked suddenly. "You've managed to build up a nice, little militia of former Shinra forces— oh yes, don't think your little buddy over there is the only one that can get hold of any information he wants— with money you somehow extorted from my old company. So, I think you're well off already. So. What's the deal?"

Saristis stared on as if in shock. That shock then melted away to a lopsided grin in Rufus's direction.

"I-I, well, I was sure it was a few million gil no one would miss..." He coughed and cleared his throat. "The security, really. It behooved me to enlist your aid because of the fact that Sephiroth might have returned. You were there. The entire world was there. He's a force to be reckoned with."

"Why not seek out the ones who actually defeated him?" Rufus returned his grin nastily.

"We did," he admitted. "They're... less than forthcoming. So you're the next best thing. Right?"

"We don't like to brag," Reno sang.

"Sleep on it some more. Just think: A Neo-Midgar may yet be within your grasp. We've already pinpointed an approximate location, and are now conducting reconnaissance. Why would the great Rufus Shinra miss out on this?"

"Hmph."

* * *

---

Vincent stood on the inner slope of Shinra Mansion's hill. He saw figures enter town, knowing full well who they were. While he had yet to meet the acquaintances of the snooping scientists, the Turks' arrival was all he truly needed to clinch the fact that there was something amiss in Nibelheim. He scowled despondently, contemplating.

_There's no doubt about it, _he thought. _Not anymore. Drana has to be what they're looking for. But... bringing in the Turks is a bit much. They must be serious. And if they find Drana, Sephiroth will turn desperate. And we may have another Meteorfall on our hands. Well... who knows? But I have to find her and warn her. Now._

Vincent threw his hair over his shoulder and proceeded down the hill with the ease of a bird taking off in flight. He still knew the ways of the Turks, and as an ex-Turk, he employed them for just this sort of situation. Long before now, he'd gathered information, he'd kept tabs. He knew how to find what he wanted. The keys were in his pocket. A bike waited outside town. This was his chance.

* * *

---

The house was mostly silent.

The monsters that fed and feared had gone, one way or another.

Sephiroth was still nowhere to be found.

I was alone. Yet I slept soundly, like Aerith told me to.

But then I heard noises, the noises of machines, or rather a single machine. Whines, revs, and whirs, not necessarily in that order. It roused me from sleep, straight into a body that felt different now; with something extra added in and taken out, yet back to normal in a way that I could sit up and wonder what wanted to intrude next like a person should. I stifled a yawn with clenched teeth— teeth, so handy but dangerous all at once—and scratched away the materia that clung to my hair and shoulder, that crusted over and irritated my eyes. A knock sounded at the door. I knew it wasn't Sephiroth. This was his house, dare I even thought, our house. He had no need to knock.

This was someone else.

I made no move to answer. I sat and stared, waiting for time to catch up to me. _How long had I been asleep?_ I wondered.

Creak.

Slam.

Whoever came calling was inside the house now. The muffled sound of footfalls labored to reach my ears.

"Hello?"

I froze. That voice reached me just fine. I knew that voice. Why was he here? He didn't belong. If Sephiroth were here, he would have been furious. Intruder. I felt no malice, no harm, so I wasn't really bothered, but I feared for his safety because he was intruding. He didn't belong here.

"Drana? Are you here? ... Sephiroth?"

He was coming closer. But still, I made no move to answer.

At last, he appeared at the door. Vincent Valentine, dressed in red and black like usual, his ashen face awash with awe. And why not? The bed and I were covered in shards of materia, not to mention I wasn't dressed for visitors, not dressed in the slightest. His face plainly wanted to know what had happened here or what was happening even as we stared at each other. Truthfully, so did I.

"Drana," he said in a halted breath, coming to kneel at my feet. His eyes riveted themselves to my chest for a moment. His face contorted in an effort to hide a sort of blush and, in an instant, he whipped his gaze up into my own eyes. With a grip upon my shoulder that urged a rush of cold to the surface of its recently regrown skin, he asked, "Are you alright? What happened? Where's Sephiroth?"

I said nothing.

He lifted a hand to my brow. "Are you... sick?"

I shook my head, whispering, "... you shouldn't be here."

"I know. Sephiroth would have my head. But this is important," he told me. "There are people after you. You two should disappear someplace. A.S.A.P. They either know what you are or want to know what you are. That will mean capture. That will mean... experiments. Bad ones. I don't want them doing that to you. Or... Sephiroth, despite my feelings towards the man."

"Really?" I frowned, albeit perplexed, at Vincent. "I think he suspects. We ran into someone in town... He called him a follower of somebody named H-Hojo. Then he got sad and angry and-" I stopped; I couldn't incriminate Sephiroth right now, whether I wanted to or not. This man didn't have to know. There was no telling what his reaction would've been. If he went for anguish or anger and did something rash either way.

"Drana. I'm not stupid. You don't have to protect him."

"He, he's still learning. He'll get better, I know it," I said tiredly.

He shook his head. "Women, thinking you can change someone…"

"So you really think I'm a woman? Even though Lucrecia says... I'm a Weapon. Or like a Weapon. A monster..."

"Drana... Lucrecia." Vincent's sympathetic arms enveloped my waist then slipped upwards under my own arms. He held me tight to his chest, too tight. I blinked off into space, dumbfounded; I had never been hugged like this. Arms like Sephiroth's were only ever full of the need to possess, not to comfort or support. Children gave such heartfelt hugs by nature, hugs that wouldn't truly have meaning until they were older.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I asked sleepily.

"I think it's called a hug."

"M-mm-maybe you should go," I slurred out of warning. "There's no telling when-"

"I don't want to go," he insisted. "For years, I've never been able to hold Lucrecia like this. Now, I don't want to let go."

For my good will, I had dug myself a fine hole. Vincent could feel her inside me, bundled up in this shell of skin and walking font of Lifestream. A small pang flashed across the surface; her heart ached for him, too. She surely had a troubling taste in who to love— her motherly love was partway understandable. Yet, this man? There was nothing I could do about that, yet positive I could do something about Vincent's surprising course of action right now. It didn't feel right. Part of me yearned to see him consoled, but the other...

The colors of the world inside this house, this room, began to swim. The dark blue curtains and muted sunlight stretched and streaked down the dark wood of the wall and floor. The burnished browns waved and swelled like hair caught in a breeze. Bronze, gold and silver flecked the lakes and streams of color. White. Red. Was it an illusion? Was my mind wandering? Yes, it was. Yes. Or I was going completely crazy, which couldn't have been far from the truth.

Vincent held me more tenderly now. I was more than a little embarrassed, having no real idea what to do. "I hope this isn't how you tell _all _people that danger is coming," I remarked.

"I'm sorry. It's just that... Lucrecia, she's..."

"T, time for you to go," I said, trying to rise to my feet. His eyes instantly met with mine in my endeavor to shake free. They looked eerily glazed, as though he were mesmerized in its totality. His embrace grew more intimate by the second, his lips more wanting, and every second my mind was driven to plot ways to make him go away. But I wasn't a clever one. "I'm serious, Mr. Vincent... Y, you have to-"

"Hojo was always in the way," he muttered, on a nigh unstoppable roll of admission. "I could only love her from afar. And then with his damned experiments, she was stolen completely from me. But Drana, you have her. She's you now. You're Lucrecia. And I can show her what I've always felt. With you."

I nearly wished for Sephiroth to come and rip me from this man's grasp. The desperation grew, yet no action came of it. My mind screamed like a tortured and gnashing banshee in a tiny cage.

"Vincent, go away," I whimpered. Guilt-ridden. "S-she may be with me, but she's NOT me…"

His fervent embrace shyly lost all feeling. Lucrecia struggled with me to regain it, pushing my limbs to fly around him but I held back, I held my ground. This was neither the time nor place for needful indulgences in love. Why were people around me not acting like they should? Things were changing and they were so much to endure.

Regret. Regret. That I left Icicle for all this, I felt it cut and burn. My cozy little winterland birdcage. I despised that I couldn't control time, because I wanted to go back, all the way back to Icicle. I could have even gone back to where there might have been nothing at all.

Vincent stepped back and nodded in dubious acceptance, his posture turning thin and weary. I knew what connecting to Lucrecia meant for him— worlds and worlds, I was sure— but I would not be used. Like I allowed Sephiroth to use me. By one person, one man, it was already more than I could suffer. If by two, I might as well have been dead. Part of me relished the idea of pleasing him, comforting him, but like some humans, I was starting to understand the weariness of stretching myself too thin for the good of others. For once, or once in a while, I had to think of myself. I had to staunch the massive desire to bring every single person into my arms, to help them by sheer presence alone. But I didn't. My flowers. Sephiroth. Aerith. Lucrecia. Vincent and all his friends. The Planet, its people. The stars. When I didn't contemplate my own existence, I thought of everyone else.

Halfheartedly, I pointed to the doorway.

"Drana," he announced in the lowest tone, "my warning still stands. Get Sephiroth and get out of here. Before it's too late. I can't let this happen. Not again."

"You say that only because I carry Lucrecia?" I asked, looking down at the floor. "Or do you really care about me as a person?"

Silence. More hurt. I winced but it had to be said. She was what mattered most to him. Not me. I hadn't mattered to anyone. Outside of Icicle. Outside of Sephiroth in his own perverse way. I longed for home. Good old homesickness kept it close to my heart.

"I'm sorry for my behavior," he confessed. "But it's not just Lucrecia. I was an experiment, too. As was she. As was Sephiroth and Cloud and Aerith. A lot of people. All at the hands of Shinra. Drana, you're something, _someone_, few fantasize in the flesh. They'll want to do the same to you. That... is pain no one should have to suffer. Least of all, you."

"Why do you people do these things?" I queried, turning away. "Your love is strange. Your thirst for power is revolting. Your pursuit of knowledge is... cruel and unusual."

"We can't all be selfless and peaceful like you. Sad to say. Goodbye, Drana. I wish you safety."

-

I dressed myself, save for my feet, and hobbled outside. The air was crisp and fresh. The sky was bright and shining. It felt like afternoon, but without looking to the sun or shadows, or even a clock for help, I wasn't sure. I had yet to figure out how long I'd been asleep.

My garden.

I circled the house to its right side. Immediately, a sense of neglect pinched at my skin. I ran to my flowers, dropping on my hands and knees. By normal human eyes, no blossom would've looked any different than it did perhaps two or three days ago. But by a trained eye, or my eyes, they were bearing the brunt of a few days neglect. Yearning for water, begging for care.

The vegetable patch was in far better condition.

I walked back inside the house for my watering pail. I came back, but just to stand on the porch for a time, thinking. People were coming for me, people who knew what I was, who knew my strength and wanted it just like Sephiroth. Would they do to me what he did to me? What would they do, I kept thinking. What would these experiments be like? Would they really bring pain, like Vincent had warned me about? Experiments were what made him into the poisoned thing he was before that fateful day.

Experiments were what made Sephiroth a creature I couldn't fathom in the past. Only they knew. Cloud and Vincent and Tifa. And Sephiroth.

What would happen to me if I was caught?

Bad things?

I was tempted. I wanted to know, wanted to experience.

But I decided no. I couldn't care for my garden if I was captured. I couldn't do a lot of things if I was captured. If it would be anything like my time with Sephiroth as a hostage, that would be no good at all. I had to get out of here. We had to get out of here. But I didn't want to leave my precious garden. This year and a half past, I worked so hard in my seclusion.

_Sephiroth, where are you?_ I thought.

Static hissed in my mind, followed by a film of black over my eyes. I shook it out of my head before it grew any worse. I took this response to mean he wanted to be alone. I knew he was feeling the guilt pour in and I smiled at that. The human guilt. The humanity that he still tried to ignore. I knew that I should have felt guilt, too, for enduring the abuse and not doing a thing. But my actions were merely the lesser of two evils. He needed an effigy to focus on apart from the masses, while he was still learning to curb his brutal enthusiasm.

Change.

Who really wanted change?

Thusly I stepped down from my pedestal of rumination, to water my flowers.

And I watched a flimsy something soar overhead.


	14. Chapter 13

_**13**_

"_I want to be a hero. I want to travel the world, picking people up when they're down, wiping their tears when they're sad, lifting them up higher when they find the light. I want to touch everyone, their hearts, their souls. With my own two hands. I want to show them love. It's kind of a... newfangled dream._

_But in a world like this, it's actually pretty dumb, huh? But I can't take back what I've said once I've said it. It's do or die._" -Drana

_

* * *

-----  
_

"Time to check in with Anton on his progress."

Saristis extracted his phone from his usual inner coat pocket and punched a number. Holding the device to his ear, he paced about the room, occasionally glancing at the work Aridale studiously organized on the computer. She was so adept at data entry, he figured her to have been mistress of a legendary secretariat in an old life. She certainly had the plain beauty for it, but her crudity left something to be desired.

Eventually, his colleague answered the phone. Tremendous whirring preceded the man's voice. "Emerson."

"How's the first flyover?" Saristis asked happily.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Except for a little house or two in the middle of nowhere."

"Little houses?" the scholar echoed.

"I doubt it'd be that easy. I mean, that's almost hiding in plain sight."

"It's also almost hiding from where everyone can see you," Saristis noted. Emerson grunted some agreement on the other end. "Listen, scout them out on foot. How many homes did you say were out there?"

"We discovered two residences so far. I'll get right on it."

"Should be a piece of cake in no time flat. Can't wait to hear the results. Saristis out." The scientist blithely snapped the phone closed and returned it to its resting place. He looked up and spotted Quelin sitting at the window, rocking back and forth in his chair and anxiously biting at his nails which one was sure was little more than slivers on beds of shredded flesh by now. A sad yet expectant grin formed on the scholar's slim, white lips. Then the observed suddenly fled from the window and flitted downstairs as if he sensed the tender scrutiny upon him.

"Hojo's reports never say very much, do they?" Aridale voiced.

"No, he was fond of keeping a lot to himself," the other answered, twisting in her direction.

"I'm going to look up the entries under Gast and Crescent. And who was that other guy? He liked using a gun. Do you remember his name?"

"Actually, no I don't." Saristis scratched his head and then his chin. "He died rather suddenly while I was an intern. But I think he worked in tandem with Dr. Crescent."

"Maybe the name'll show up with hers." The woman continued to click and tap at the keyboard with honored dexterity. Her superior had to admit that when she wasn't fighting with Emerson or flaunting her vanity like a third, golden arm, she was a hard worker.

"What are you doing, anyways?" the redhead asked, jumping behind his colleague. She shrugged.

"Needing a few refreshers and cleaning up information," Aridale returned. "Tried to look over Hojo's notes on Weapon, but there's too little. Looking over Gast's but at the time, his greatest study revolved around Jenova, so nothing of much import there. Crescent was part of that study, too, but she had her own theses that sort of fell through the cracks. About Lifestream and whatnot. And you know I can't even find her original files. I think they were stolen, because all I get are stupid little keywords sans citations, and pointless excerpts from missing dissertations."

"Hmm, yes, her work being absent from our archives is rather suspicious. It's been gone for quite a while, actually." Saristis stroked his rounded chin and walked towards the window where Quelin had previously perched. To his surprise, he spied the man shuffling around in the square below while a pair of children gazed on. A poor mouse lost in its maze. The scholar found it a sad but slightly amusing sight to behold. This was the devastating power of Mako poisoning.

"I need Kit here. I'm sure he'll have what we're missing in that blond noggin of his." Aridale rose from her seat and stalked downstairs on long, plump legs. Saristis's eyes meandered from her toes to the top of her head as she sauntered around the corner and out the door. The idea was laughable, but he saw no harm in entertaining it. A good woman in the field of science was uncommon. Jenna Aridale was strong, exceptionally strong to be capable of full on verbal brawls with Emerson. She took pride in herself, in her work. Maybe even her allure.

As a scientist, he abhorred his attraction to her. Work came first. But oh, to dream on those lonely and sleepless nights.

"Ah, Sar, how you slay yourself," he muttered.

* * *

---

I tried repeatedly to contact Sephiroth, thinking and baiting and thinking some more. But I was always greeted with a shroud of black that wanted to eat the eyes out of my head. The more I tried, the stronger it became. And the stronger it became, the more terror attacked me. Poison. I started to see this poison everywhere. Soon came the knowledge of it hardwired into the bodies and souls of the ones that walked, slithered, soared and swam across the Planet. The beasts, the monsters, even the few and unlucky human beings.

I felt the poison. Suffered the poison.

I wanted to stop it so much.

Sephiroth still bore the greatest burden of all. Having bore it from his mother, her having bore it from who knew what before her. I hadn't noticed earlier. I'd only seen that he was a cold and lonely, warped and bloody creature; he was so distant, even now, that he seemed to live on an isle of no man, at the heart of the farthest sea. With our link severed, I had to think if it was loneliness that was all he needed. A path of solitude to walk, the exact one his mother had taken, understanding that they carried a bane unlike any other. The original bane.

The one that people called Jenova, that Aerith called the Calamity.

"Goodbye, flowers," I whispered. Then, more loudly, "I have to go for a little while. But I'll see you again soon. Just going to look for Sephiroth. Huh... that man. He couldn't go a day, _a day_, without telling me to be in his custody at all times. And now he doesn't want to be anywhere near me. Doesn't even want to be found. Well, you're going to be found..."

Barefoot, I stamped from porch to plains. I held my head high, clenched my fists tight, and dug my toes into the cool grass and fine dirt. This firm standing would do me some good for my little mission, although there lied no clue in my head where to start. But the otherworldly fibers that bound me together urged me towards the setting sun. I was urged towards the light, as if it could guide me, protect me, and give me the strength to destroy the Calamity for good. But I didn't need all that. There wasn't going to be any Calamity fighting for me. I just needed to find Sephiroth.

The flimsy thing flew overhead yet again. The sky had certainly gotten noisy in the last few hours. Quick deduction pointed to the people that were searching for me. They plied the skies, but were slow to roam the earth. Only time would tell who caught up to whom, and regardless of the urgency, I was going to take my time. If my pursuers didn't, then I'd compliment them on their grasp for swift execution of priorities.

I took a deep breath and headed for the coast.

* * *

---

It was the end of another hard day renovating Shinra Mansion. Covered in dust and mold, Tifa ambled home with several workers in her wake, cellphone pressed to her cheek, prepared to call or to answer but it was obvious neither was going to happen. Because, it had already happened an hour or so before. Her call made the status of vain, though not absolute. She'd gotten a hello, a 'How are things?' and a goodbye. But she failed to achieve her goal.

She didn't ask for rescue or guidance. Though she wanted to; she wanted to call again.

But she let Cloud be.

Despite the promise that was made, Tifa had to force herself to realize that she couldn't always call on him every time she needed to be carried to safety or every time she needed an ass kicked when she wasn't able. She relied on him for inner strength, giving the fact that she possessed self-reliance little thought. Too little thought. She wanted to keep Cloud close but in the years since Meteorfall, it'd grown a bit difficult.

Tifa knew Cloud still had problems, problems that he needed to sort out on his own time. So she called him home no more than absolutely necessary, or to drop in when he could and see Denzel, Marlene and the other orphans that looked up to him with some of the brightest eyes in mankind. To show that he hadn't dropped off the face of the earth, he performed that duty without fail. Now, if only he stayed longer.

A brooding bundle of red and black shortly caught her eye as it hovered above town. Like a scheming, hungry hawk, Vincent squatted on the four-cornered convex dome of the water tower, the slightest breezes not daring to ruffle his dark plumage, if it could be called that. Slightly taken aback, Tifa raised a hand in greeting but her companion made no indication that he noticed her below. She shrugged, though a tad offended, and turned to enter her house with her gaggle of workers.

* * *

---

The ocean ebbed and flowed; waves danced and rolled far out in the distance to swallow the horizon when and wherever it could. The waning daytime waters were glittering as gulls bobbed to and fro, sinking into the blue then rising like fat, white born-again phoenixes of the sea with their bounties. This was the picture of tranquility, a picture I'd hoped Sephiroth was attending as well in his absence. But I saw no other soul wandering the sands as I did. There were only birds lounging and waddling about, notably a gang of chubby feathered bodies colliding over a small black cloud.

A cloud.

I could smell the death-like stink wafting over the mile. Sephiroth had been here but long since moved on.

The poison gripped me, choked me with microscopic fear. As long as I stood this far away, I knew it couldn't hurt me. But it was hurting the birds, drowning them one by one in a mist of rotting feathers. Their anguished cries left me no choice. I walked towards the mini-massacre before I knew it. The stench grew more powerful threefold, burning the rims of my eyes. The gulls flopped and squawked and vied for the sky but the black cloud, which emanated from an odd dark clump in the sand, stood the unshakable master over their demise.

As I drew closer, some of the still living seabirds worked themselves into a frenzy, crazily scuttling and dragging around me. I lifted my hands up in feigned surrender.

"Okay, okay," I chanted to myself, mustering courage that still seemed too little despite what I planned to do.

I got down on my hands and knees and crawled towards the clump when I was just a few yards away. The gulls around me continued to shriek and sputter as I closed in on the spot of death and dying. The miasmic cloud winced at my advancing hand. The skin of my fingers began to creep in reaction to the poison, shreds peeling away and floating into the air like ash. I moaned and flinched, watching my fingers fade into shafts of light.

The black blob squealed like a crushed mouse, bubbling and steaming, its haze thickening and stinking more and more like putrid flesh.

I jittered out a laugh as the lump transmuted entirely into a cloud. The afflicted gulls either uselessly flapped into stillness or made their escape into the sea and sky. I raised my hand up towards them, which looked like a strangely shaped lamp now more than anything, hoping that I could have healed them before they left but it was too late. I looked down at the gulls' fallen brethren. Half molted and decaying. They were too far beyond death for me to revive, in any fashion.

I frowned.

Thankfully, the cloud of venom had dispersed.

"Well, that was fun," I told myself wearily. Instinct told me to hold my hand close, though in actuality, there wasn't much to nurse. Lifestream was only as tangible as water; but the exposure of it and the stench that clung to my dissolved fingers still told me to react as much. "But I wanted to find you, not this... little evil lump trying to eat these poor birds. Where are you? I don't know where to go…

"Planet, Sephiroth can't be, can't be there, can he?"

I stared into the sand beneath my knees. Impulsively, I buried my hand deep under one knee, and turned my sights to the water. Evening was fast approaching; the bottom of the sky melted from gold on up to orange, to subtle blues and purples. I'd never left home after dusk under my own supervision, not since my journey from Icicle to the outside world. My heart fluttered with the anticipation of a new adventure folding out in front of me. _Escape from treacherous Nibelheim. The great search for Sephiroth. The-_

"You look like you're a long ways from home," a voice pointed out.

"Yes, I…" I glanced up over my shoulder. My mouth fell agape. "I, I'm looking for someone but... I think I'm lost."

"Well, we can do something about that. What's your name, little lady?" asked the stocky, shorter one of the two men. His face was grave and grouchy coated with a poor attempt at humility. I squinted at the menacing crags trained around his mouth and eyes and across his broad forehead. And then there was his white coat. Was he related to the man that drove Sephiroth off the deep end?

I leered. "Oh um, my name's... Drana. Nice to meet you."

"Where do you live, Miss Drana? Perhaps we can escort you back home." The balding, crag-faced man offered me a meaty paw, which took me a while to accept. As he helped me to my feet, I saw his beady eyes running over me as though I were some sort of criminal. I heaved myself backwards, keeping my other hand hidden, and nodded my thanks.

"N, not too far from here," I told him. "I think, I've been walking for a while."

"Is something wrong with your hand, Miss?"

"Oh, um yeah," I chuckled. "Th-there was something icky in the sand. I knew better than to, than to touch it but you know, sometimes curiosity will get the best of you. It-it's just a scratch, though, nothing I can't-"

"Well, maybe we should take you to town, instead," the white-coated man suggested. His gruff tone was almost genial. "When dealing with injury by foreign substances, it's best to see a physician."

"No, really, I'm fine-"

"I insist."

"B-but-"

His big hand took hold of my shoulder and drew me close. He spoke lowly, "Listen, we're not here to hurt you. We saw what you were doing. Show us your hand. Please."

I cringed. "N, no, it's mine."

He rolled his eyes in exhaustion and then plucked a phone from out of nowhere. He motioned to his cohort, who was dressed plainly by comparison. The tight-lipped, cap wearing man nodded and stood next to me with the most disinterested look on his face. I tilted my head at him, trying to figure his situation. But as the exemplar of plainness, he was too tough to crack.

I waved my undamaged hand at the guy, to which he replied with, "Ma'am."

"What's going on?" I asked discreetly.

"I'm just a pilot," he said.

"Um…" Confused by his response, I faced the sea, keeping my injured hand near and hidden. So, they'd found me, I thought with a grimace. Since I left home, I'd entertained the idea of a big and fancy chase across the plains, the Planet, where Sephiroth and I were always one step ahead and our pursuers sported the dopiest expressions of loss and comedic anger in our wake. But it was just me, standing here and now, with a dope of a pilot and a chubby guy in a white coat talking on his phone.

A tiny static-laden noise sounded, like high-pitched cheeping. I peered over my shoulder to see the fat man dangling the phone far away from his ear while the noise trickled out into a torrent. Was that laughing?

"Pilot, we're leaving!" he exclaimed. "After we get back to Nibelheim, you take a break and refuel at Rocket Town, then it's Junon soon thereafter. Pronto, get her and let's move."

"You fool," I whispered. "You're a fool, Drana."


	15. Chapter 14: Black

_**14: Black

* * *

**_

-----

He knew better. But out of repentant sincerity, he had left without a fight. He departed realizing that only he and Sephiroth had the power to keep, to safeguard, to champion. With their, perhaps, misguided affection at the helm, only they were fit for the task. But as night descended on Nibelheim, his brain wracked and ruined itself with frustration in himself and many things. He understood that after thirty long years of being crushed under the thumb of a deadly shadow, his grip on the human condition had gotten a bit rusty. What transpired earlier that day uttered a monumental speech. His love for Lucrecia thrived still, he regretted nothing in that. Only disappointment survived the day of urgency.

The signs blared and clawed at his eyes that he could have wept in pure agony. Wept, something he hadn't done in the decades since he was changed.

_Did you do this just to spite me? How could you walk into their hands? How? Why should this happen again? I can't. This time, there's no Hojo to stop me from saving you. Either of you._

Vincent rose upon the full length of his legs, encircled by a great slice of moonlight cleaving through the sky's southern expanse. He pulled his cape tight about his arms, having watched the last of the enemy troupe retire to the inn. One time a scheming hawk, now a brooding gargoyle rocked to life, he watched the building as it nursed shady activity within its belly. He hoped his gaze would punch holes through the wood, plaster, and stone, steal back what he decided to claim his, and with it run off into the night. The lone spy knew he would be in for a fight from nearly every conceivable angle. Not just against these thieving scientists, but Sephiroth as well.

Sephiroth.

Sephiroth and an unchecked force of the Planet that backed him up.

Vincent begged himself not to think of what that entailed. Whatever power that resurrected Lucrecia's son undoubtedly came from the same earth he once menaced. The monstrous grip of Chaos choked him to within an inch of lunacy, as a spirit as cool and soothing as carnage could be mighty and swift. It wanted to sweep him away, but Vincent learned in so short a time to resist. He only wished to ponder it, not relive his prison under the devil's shadow.

_Drana, Chaotic life. Lucrecia, what would happen with her in their hands? What _will _happen? It's unthinkable. Isn't it? Not even you would have thought of this happening. She'd been just a theory. As much as Chaos had been just a theory before he was forced into me._

Vincent let one foot slip off the top of the water tower, plunging towards the ground. He dropped in a way that a feather could hardly be accused as a bunch of dead weight. He strolled amongst the pool of oblong, silver-rimmed shadows that draped the town square, a single calm scene out of a horror. There were few places to go to but into these shadows while flustered over current events and entertaining his own ideas of horror.

No need to bother Tifa. She'd wished to be a part of the puzzling goings-on, but she'd taken upon herself almost the entire project of rebuilding Shinra Mansion. She was to take a backseat to the matter that bothered him. He, himself, had wished to be dedicated, too, to be the forerunner of dedication with the place as far as mutual history went. But something bigger grabbed him, something that connected to him at the core of his being. More so than any musty old building. No plan arose in him being an antihero this time. This time, his choice prevailed.

A hero of one, a hero for all.

Unexpectedly, a grin crossed over his pale lips. Vincent lacked a reputation in the ways of smiling, but he felt an unfounded delight in the thought. To be Lucrecia's hero. The gunman swept locks of hair back from his forehead so that he could lend his eyes to the humongous crescent fixed in the night overhead. Unlike some, no moon goddess appeared bringing boons in return for continued good faith, not for him. He saw only majesty in its size. He saw inspiration. And for the briefest second, he spied the mournfully reflective face of Lucrecia framed by it.

"Drana, I could be your hero, too," he professed. "Whether Sephiroth steps up to the plate or not…"

While drumming fingers on his chin and staring at the ground bathed in darkness, Vincent meandered not to the inn, or to Tifa's house, or even the currently vacant construction site of Shinra Mansion. He happened instead upon his motorbike on loan from the WRO parked outside the mansion's gates, half-hovered and half-hoisted himself onto its brown leather-bound seat, and keyed the ignition.

The engine purred softly to life.

--

From the second floor, sitting at the polished hardwood desk in her childhood room, reading a letter from Marlene and Denzel, Tifa suddenly heard a motor turning over. She rose to her bare feet and padded to the window behind her, first glancing at the waxing crescent moon then to the unlit square. Unable to see anything out of the ordinary, she scratched at a puzzled eyebrow and stepped back towards her bed. A teddy bear sat at the foot, button eyes peering into space above the piano directly three feet away.

She never touched the stuffed animal since coming back to Nibelheim. She never knew this bear. And it never knew her, unlike its long gone predecessor. And she preferred that it stay that way.

Tifa backtracked to the desk, snatching up her phone, and tardily punched a number into the keypad.

"Reeve Tuesti speaking."

"Hi Reeve, it's Tifa," she said.

"Oh Tifa, good to hear from you. How are the renovations coming along?"

His instant conviviality wore on her, making the woman smile before she could catch herself in the act. She parked herself backwards in the chair, resting an arm on the back's rim. Sighing, she returned, "Not bad. But that's not why I'm calling you."

"Oh? What's up?"

"I want you to look up some people for me. I think they're former Shinra employees and they're looking pretty suspicious around Nibelheim."

"Funny you should say that."

"Huh?"

"Vincent called asking for the exact same thing not too long ago."

Tifa gawked in amazement. "And he hasn't even let me in on what he's been doing…"

"Tifa, what's going on over there? Vincent hasn't told me much either."

"I think it has something to do... with Sephiroth and Drana," she divulged with a somewhat doubtful tone.

"Sephiroth and Drana?"

* * *

---

_From Sixth: I wonder why I'm trying but I'm doing it. Perhaps just because..._


	16. Chapter 15: White

_**15: White

* * *

**_

-----

"Miss Drana!"

A little blond boy flew out of nowhere as we entered the inn, his arms thrown around my hips and hugging me with a force that rivaled Vincent's mistaken embrace. His warm display heaved my escorts and I into slight confusion, no big feat for children like him. His cherubic face and mouthful of happy gapped teeth virtually rang no bell in my mind amongst the children that prowled the town's dusty streets. Granted, I said hello on random occasions, but other than that, I was no more an acquaintance to them than Sephiroth or a bucket. So their faces at the moment were all the same to me.

"I…"

"Don'tcha remember me?" he asked with puppy dog eyes. "I got a mean bug bite on Mt. Nibel and then you came an'-"

"Oh!" I yelped, cutting him off as well as figuring out his identity. How a few words could make everything come rushing back. In recollection of the evening in question, he'd been sitting out of sight by the general store, nursing a bite that Sephiroth said would be sure to kill him in his sleep. Happily rebelling against orders, I'd healed the boy under the pretense of just giving him an apologetic I'm-sorry-there's-nothing-I-can-do hug. Little did I know that he was smarter than that and would figure out my power— so cleverness wasn't reserved for a just select few anymore. It came even in kid sizes. Shaken out of memory, I patted him on the head, while struggling through a bitten lower lip, "It's, um... It's been a while, huh? What's your name again?"

"Des, short for Desmond," he told me, beaming. "I tried to get some materia for you so you could be friends with me and mine, but couldn't find any. So-"

"Des, you don't need to give me anything so I'll be friends with you," I said, melancholy but nowhere near disappointed. Being in the company of the men who accosted me felt like a major damper, but I tried not to let it rule me.

"But every time we asked you to play, you'd run away so we thought…"

"Th-those were just busy times for me. But, don't worry about it. I'm your friend, always and just like that. We'll play sometime, okay? Soon."

"Really?" the boy exclaimed. "Awesome, I can't wait to tell my friends!"

"Alright, enough of that," the stocky man announced, urging me on with big impatient hands. "Up the stairs with you. Saristis would love to see what we managed to catch so fast."

Intentionally faltering at every step, I was led out of the boy's venerating arms and up the stairs, jammed between the dopey pilot and the chubby white-coated man. I panicked and brimmed with excitement all the same over who I was going to meet next. Would this Saristis be as grim and nasty looking as the man to my left or goofy and plain as the one to my right?

A tawny-headed boy-man with glasses as thick as the bottoms of mugs paced the hallway on the third floor. A yellow notepad flopped back and forth in his hands while he spoke at a speed and in words I had to admit were far beyond me. He seemed not to have noticed us at all when we passed by, but the intense scribbling I heard behind me could have said otherwise.

We pushed through the door at the end of the short hall, where I was jostled into a room with various things packed against the wall, things not very inn-like, and a funny table in the middle with a computer on its top. At the computer sat a woman with ginger hair and a smug, squinty-eyed face. Next to her stood a man with red hair and glasses several sizes smaller and thinner than those of the man in the hallway. All eyes were on me, however. But the redhead's faded blue eyes were the widest of all. His mouth was agape, curled at the corners as if a smile wanted to shine through and snap it closed.

"An, Anton... Is this?"

"I, I remember you…" Shock ordered me to retreat, though the pilot impeded my path.

"You tell me, Sar," answered the fat man.

The gaping fiery haired man stumbled from around the table in my direction, hands open to catch a defiant nothing that floated through the air. His enthusiasm seemed uncharacteristic among those that surrounded him, but just the mere look of these people told me that they were altogether uncharacteristic. I felt lost in a sea of total unknown, swimming with dangerous alien fish wielding some higher intelligence as their secret weapon. Scientists. These were the fabled scientists that Sephiroth loved tirelessly to curse, that Vincent warned would do as many bad things to me as what had been done to him and countless others.

Yet the one called Saristis looked about as menacing as the child Des when he assaulted me with a hug. Brilliant and full of worthy curiosity.

He reached for my hands but caught only air in his fingers.

Not a moment too soon, a frightened squeal shot from a corner of the room, jolting me out of the wedge between my escorts. I searched all corners until I saw the most fragile man ever writhing in a little space next to one of the two beds present. His hair was stringy and sloppily tied back in a ponytail after having been pulled every which way prior to now. His face was sallow and full of deadly, incomprehensible fright. What was he afraid of? Was it me?

"Oh damn it all," the woman at the computer muttered.

"Haha!" the redhead shouted with glee. "Quelin, this is it, isn't it? Anton! I could kiss you. How, how did you do it?"

"Thank the wonders of modern technology, Saristis," his cohort boasted. "But I think our girl here would've been easy to find anyways with the way she was running around the plains like a headless bird."

"Oh really. Then I guess fate's been smiling down on us."

This thing called fate had been sticking its tongue out at me, though I didn't know what I'd done to deserve such injustice. The thrill and temptation of meeting with these people had passed. My body was now fraught with knots of misfortune towards my now fully appreciated jam. As this Saristis studied me with fervid abandon, as the goggled man from the hall suddenly appeared still scribbling in his notepad, as the woman grinned with cagey intuition, as the thrashing man-thing in the corner continued to sputter dire nonsense, and as the thickset man next to me spouted boastful words that my ears ignored completely, my heart sank.

My heart sank.

"Kit, Anton, sit it down. Pilot, you're free to go. We'll take care of the rest," the redhead scholar declared. "Jenna, take Quelin downstairs and see if you can calm him down."

"Sar, if you were anyone else, I'd kick you in the dick for always sticking me with this retarded piece of flesh," the woman regarded, rising upon long legs I hadn't seen on a woman since Tifa. She stalked to the corner of the room in which the frothing man still flopped like a fish and took him by the arms.

"Jenna, you know I don't mean to but you know how soothing a woman's touch can be."

"Charmed, but kindly stick that back up your ass." Keeping to the far edges of the room, the two made their way out, her applying as much force a woman could to restrain a wild and wiry ball of babbling male nerves. Though throughout her endeavor, she managed to always return my gaze with one of calculation.

My heart sank further as the skinny goggled scientist and his chunky balding counterpart took me gently by the arms, directing me to a chair that had been pulled out specifically for me. I was seated in the middle of the room, once more sandwiched by less than vigilant looking men.

"Now... you look pretty civilized to be something akin to Weapon. Kit!" Saristis called, snapping his fingers. "Time for dictation."

"Yessir." The one called Kit flipped to fresh pages of his notepad and readied his pen.

"Suspected specimen has been acquired. By human standards, its appearance is indeed female, five feet four inches in height, possibly one hundred thirty to forty pounds; skin is fair— or rather translucent?— and hair is considerably beyond waist length, coloration a light gray to white. Definitely not premature whitening, but it looks too exceedingly natural to be anything else. Oh, Kit, look at the eyes, look here. Heterochromatic." The scholar withdrew a pen shaped object from his breast pocket and pointed it into my eyes. A light flickered on in an instant, shocking me backwards. "Irises are green and blue, respectively. Pupils dilate with no discrepancies in size or shape by the average human standard. Hmm. No apparent body hair... Absence of pores? Or simply an absence of genes that govern body hair... Well, there are other areas such as the pubis that can be scrutinized to affirm whether or not specimen adheres to outward Ancient physiological criteria. I know, I know, it is a very awkward criteria. That will come later, don't worry, dear. Ahem, moving on— let me see your hand."

"No," I murmured, stuffing my hands down between my knees.

"Suspected specimen understands and can speak human speech, although to what extent shall be tested in a later battery of tests. Anton, you found it. Does it have a name?"

"Upon our initial encounter, she called herself Drana."

"Drana?" Saristis repeated with wonder in his face and tone. "What a lovely name. Tell me, who named you? Or did you name yourself?"

I said nothing.

"Aw, it's shy. Specimen seems to mimic a human fairly well thus far. Shifting eyes and closely drawn knees depict uneasiness. The hiding of the hands demonstrates secrecy. Anton, what say you?"

"We saw her disturbing some foreign mass on the beach," the fat man said. "Even from our distance at first, we could see light emitting from her hand. And if you've noticed, a light still shines through when she's careless enough to let her guard down."

"Ah, light? Really? Now I absolutely _must _see your hand. Please, if you cooperate with us, then the faster this will be over and we can decide whether or not you're what we've been looking for." Saristis settled on one knee at my feet, a near genuine expression of entreaty on his smooth but lightly creased face. But I shook my head, determined. It didn't matter if they already knew what was wrong with my hand or not, the sight would have only confirmed their suspicions and prompt them to begin their evil tests at once.

No.

"No," I said out loud.

"Please, we're not violent people. We don't want to get physical. We _can't _get physical, look at us. Let's be civilized, shall we?"

I scowled at how, sooner or later, his words would be lies great and big and fat like his colleague, but far more disgusting than anything I knew of in existence. Like that clump, that possible 'remnant' of Jenova sitting on the beach, as it ate and tainted birds.

"All we'd like is for you to show us your hand. Please?"

I closed my eyes against the smiling, pleading mask of the scientist at my feet. With time, I was certain that all their forms would drain out of my eyes like dirt and dust caught in tears. I was certain. If I believed in the power of my mind, the power of this body, my body, like Sephiroth would tell me, then by will these men would be gone.


	17. Chapter 16: Gray

_**16: Gray

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**_

---

Sephiroth let his body to carry him where he neither cared nor refused to go.

Like a man possessed by legions of ghosts or a leaf caught in a lasting updraft, he sailed, eyes glimpsing only the endless blue space that circled the Planet, instead of the bountiful lands and oceans below. Sometimes patches, trains, and blankets of clouds blocked his view but were soon driven or burned away by the sun or the passing of time.

The blue sky gave way to black space spangled with stars and nearly sliced in half by a gigantic crescent moon, back to blue sky and black again. It all came to elude him in the end. His feline eyes never wavered in the way of the world all around him.

Black feathers sprinkled the air, shredded and tossed without a care.

"Mother." His voice was so low as to not even register as a whisper. "Will you take me again? Into your arms? That soulless embrace? I remember. You weren't like other women. You were driven, driven by power, by need. You were never distracted by human emotions like jealousy and anger. You were pure in what you sought to do. You were pure...

"But in her, there is purity far more enticing. She is the Planet. She is the very thing we fought to obtain— her power— and I have it now. Without you. So. I have a decision to make, don't I? Shall I keep you close, my dearly beloved Mother? Or shall she become my every want and need in flesh? The decision is so easy yet so hard to make…"

Sephiroth stopped abruptly in mid-flight, lifting himself up to be fully outlined by the silvery-blue glow of the moon. Slowly, carefully, he drew his arms about his waist and surveyed the land as it stretched far and wide below his bare feet. The darkened terrain looked unfamiliar as far as he chose to be concerned, from dimly lustrous forests set upon tapering plateaus to barren canyons the color of old blood at their bases. In some deep, dark pit of his soul, he found this night-shaded scene beautiful.

He took in a long breath, neck crooked back for his eyes to take in the twinkling space above him. With a wounded joker's grin, he voiced, "After what I've done, how wrong of me to abandon you. It's not like me to go back on my word. But since I've found you, I haven't been... myself for a while. Heh…

"I can't sense you. Are you hiding from me? That's impossible. No matter what, you're still mine and you... You're not home. Then, who is that? A residual trail…" Sephiroth's head lulled listlessly upon his shoulders, mouth slack and eyes closed as though all his senses had overloaded and it either lashed him with bliss or woe. A knit of hostility worked its way into his brow, and the joker's grin returned baring teeth as more of a wolf's maw gnawing on a child's arm.

It was settled.

"You. I never forget a face. You'll haunt the woman and I for the last time. But first…"

--

The promise of ecstasy-filled violence drained promptly out of Sephiroth as he reached what he didn't care anymore to regard as home. Much to his anger and dismay, no souls or bodies but markers of their presence occupied the dwelling, dancing in the bedroom and meandering through the living room with forlorn childlike precision. These residual trails he recognized rather easily, bristling at one and longing the other.

"Did he take you away?" he questioned the air.

A soundless reply.

"Mm… No matter if he did or not. He will pay."

Sephiroth ambled towards the porch, snatching handfuls of the near invisible haze when there roamed another, a stranger among the rest. It had only gone as far as a few steps past the threshold, drifted along the floor, then twisted around and fled the scene. Insult flushed his pale face, that others should come into his house unwelcome and pursue what was his. Immediately he came to the awareness that his absence allowed this situation to arise. His hormonal flight had invited others to come knocking where few should have dared to tread.

He sighed in not so obvious defeat. Hugging his arms about his waist again, Sephiroth hissed, "This is _your _fault. The things you make me do. The call you shout to others. That sweet Lifestream is a curse."

His body dragged itself slowly into the bedroom. The lasting haze stung his nostrils, and discarded crystals of materia lay scattered on the floor poking at his toes as he glided by. A wanting hand shot out in front of him. Begging for his sword. "Masamune" slipped from his lips in unusual sensuality.

The blade of nameless masterwork rattled on its rack secured above the bed. The locks that held it in place flew back on their hinges, and the sword rocked out of the slots with eerie animation. As if Sephiroth's hand was a magnet in itself, the sword virtually phased into his clutch within less than a second.

"We have work to do."


	18. Chapter 17: Whetstone

_**17: The Whetstone

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**_

-----

What had I been expecting in my time of need?

I'd expected to be saved.

I anticipated being stolen away by a shining Sephiroth begging for absolution for the things he'd done, or a less likely Vincent who still wanted to pay dues toward Lucrecia who rested beside my heart and his, despite my turning him away. I expected the far-fetched Cloud, the unorthodox Tifa. So many candidates with little boisterous signs picketed and whooped at the chance in my head.

But in the hour that I'd been poked and prodded by the deeply fascinated hands of Saristis Noah and his inquisitive band, no one came to my aid. No Sephiroth, no Vincent, no Cloud, no Tifa. So I didn't expect to be saved anymore, regardless if I were jumping to that conclusion too soon. The feeling wasn't immediate, but existed nevertheless. I only looked forward to time passing quicker when I wasn't hoping to be set free. Like a living, forever flipping coin, I hoped and lost hope, hoped and lost hope again.

Finally, I hung on to the hope toiling within.

Because out of all the candidates to come to my rescue, only Sephiroth proved the most faithful. I was his treasure. No matter what, he'd be certain to get me back. Therein lied my salvation as an object, one cherished as high if not higher than another person's life itself. I struggled not to be especially flattered by this fact, but concerning my safety it was, regardless, a vast relief.

"Do I detect a glimmer of hope in those magical eyes?" queried the scientist before me. His voice seemed to drop like a spider on a thread from above. I kept any alarm in check and glowered in his direction. "What are you thinking? What does a thing like you think?"

"I think it _is _hope, Sar," said the female with the creamy-looking face. "She's obviously waiting for someone to save her. Someone strong, perhaps, who'll rip us to shreds once they see we have her in our custody. This means we should either be getting the hell out of Nibelheim right now, or we need arms until we do."

"Maybe our fabled general?" Saristis visibly shuddered. There was an unusually real apprehension these people harbored towards Sephiroth being alive. The tension coated the air like a toxic sheet. The redhead had risen to his feet, a bona fide expression of distress razing his face. "Well, I've kept some materia stashed away for just this sort of occasion; though I don't know how much help it'll be if anything like the late general arrives."

"I'm going to call the pilot back early," the woman decided, fiddling with her cellular phone. As if a challenge had been made the moment she extracted hers from her pocket, the red-haired scientist took his own phone in hand.

"And time to call on some extra arms."

Half the scholarly group jumped to life with the realization that Sephiroth or something equally formidable could be coming for me, and if they didn't prepare for his or whoever or whatever's arrival, they would be as good as dead. While I guessed their plans for me only in the simplest terms, I had no ill will for these people. I wished death on no one. Sephiroth, on the other hand, was uncontrollable. His humane side was hard to appease, short of putting my body on the line in some way or another, and such opportunities hadn't presented themselves since my old days as a hostage. Fortunately enough. Our seclusion ensured the sparing of lives. But not anymore. After this, Sephiroth would pin the folly of a few on the whole human race. Or maybe he wouldn't. The chance was slim. I had to trust that he'd reformed at least some of his ways.

I still peered into the black vortex of colorful dots and geometric shapes spiraling over the back of my closed eyelids.

"I don't care anymore," I whispered to myself. Then, throwing discretion to the wind, I voiced, "Sephiroth's coming for me. He's real, really real, and he'll probably be very mad at you guys. I'm not. I'm sure you'll do the right thing. I don't want to see you people hurt, no matter what you've done or will do or-"

"Saristis, she said it!" fat Emerson shouted. "That's confirmation that Sephiroth's alive!"

"Maybe she's lying," the woman remarked.

"It's possible. It's also possible that our specimen knows no concept of false truth," Saristis said. "I say we take this warning to heart. Just in case."

"Green, red, purple. Red? Sir, summoning is dangerous," the goggled man stated, fussing over a small duffel bag brought to one of the beds. The sounds of subtle clinking like wineglasses for a toast hooked my ears. I opened my eyes, turned my head, and studied the offending bag with its cordial little string of noises. I felt a dangerously familiar energy radiating out in all directions from it. Materia. A tinge of Sephiroth, an overwhelming swath of Lifestream. Spirits, drifting and swirling.

I sat up straight.

"Yes, I know, Kit. Summoning is very dangerous, but it's merely a last resort in the probable failings of all else."

"We have no gauge of Sephiroth's strength, sir. Postulate: Is he the SOLDIER general from the Great War with some mastery of materia and unparalleled swordsmanship? Or the untold thing in the Northern Crater hopped up on alien steroidal cells that brought about Meteorfall? Or some normal, quite powerless human being with only an ace up his sleeve?"

Saristis chuckled. "You have a point."

"Time to hold caution close to our little scientific hearts," noted the female scholar.

"You took caution not nearly fast enough."

My head came close to swiveling right off my neck at the uninvited guest of a voice. It echoed around the corner that concealed both door and doorway from immediate view. But what rounded the corner was not a person in any recognizable shape or form. It was, in fact, the ominously stylized single-barreled muzzle of a gun. This wasn't exactly the figurehead of salvation I hoped would come but at least my prayers had been answered.

I shook my head, relieved and yet dissatisfied, too. "Vincent… But where's Sephiroth?"

"Vincent? As in Vincent Valentine, the ex-Turk?" Saristis folded his arms in each other, disbelief suffused throughout his mediocre physique. "Kitton's told me a lot about you. You're in league with the WRO."

"Flattered you would know me," Vincent said as he came to stand fully in the flesh. He made a sort of U-shaped motion with his gun at the scientists. Seeming to take the hint, they gathered at the other end of the room far from me and him. Of the four, only Saristis and the woman whose name I couldn't recall, sported a strange look of confidence as if things were going to turn in their favor much sooner than later.

Then it hit me.

"They have materia!" I screamed. "Watch out!"

Saristis threw his hand up high, holding an orb of green materia beyond the size of his fist. As I watched Vincent physically steel himself beneath the flurry of his cape, the walls and floor shook with oddly abated strength, rattling every piece of furniture and wall fixture on their collective legs and nails. I fell out of the chair as air puckered in the center of the room above me and exploded outward in a flurry of stone.

Jagged boulders rushed sideways into Vincent, igniting a scintillating dome of red and green upon impact. Head-sized chunks dispersed and slammed into the back wall along with their more complete brethren, literally splitting the backside of the inn open with a crash. Besides the commotion of gravity-defying rock meeting wood, plaster, glass and stone, I heard an energized laugh spout over my head.

"I never knew using materia could be so fun," Saristis gasped.

"Just a pinch destructive," his womanly companion scoffed. "I think we'll be paying for that."

Vincent had only been brought to one knee after the passing rock storm, but seemed to sustain more than just a shaking of his foundation. Color flushed out of his arms and legs and in its wake, they dried and hardened more each passing second. I gasped, reaching out with my glowing injured hand.

"Vincent! What's happening to you?!"

Endeavoring to stand erect, Vincent huffed and grunted against the stone solidifying over his semi-immovable limbs. His eyes beseeched me as I lain on the floor. I understood the silent plea. A state of slow-moving petrifaction would be easy to remedy. So like a snake, I crawled on my belly along carpet and hardwood floor to his feet, grabbed a hold of his ankle, and wished my body to do the rest. Meanwhile, my gun-toting savior had aimed his rifle over my head.

Boom!

A dual-bodied afterimage ballooned above me, causing Vincent to balk unexpectedly after he'd fired a shot. He reflexively swung his gun at the blue silhouette, slicing it in two and ousting the pair of scientists from their high speed tackle. The gunman's stony forearm cracked loudly on the floor thereafter, splintering a floorboard or two in his descent, and the stocky scientist and his skinny, androgynous cohort tumbled and skidded over the carpet in a daze.

"You guys are real dumbasses!" the woman shrieked.

"You can't blame us for trying, you shrew!" replied Emerson.

I glanced back to see Saristis ready his materia for another grand onslaught.

Visible curtains of air spun and smashed together, racing across the ceiling and spiking straight towards Vincent. I grappled his calf but was soon yanked away by Emerson as the mini-tornado risen to life swept the man out through the huge space of missing wall in the back of the room. With a grunt of surprise, he rolled into the darkness beyond.

"Sar, we need to get the hell out of here, _now_! Come on, we need to go rendezvous with the plane." The woman tugged at the redhead's arm, vying to bring him down off his materia high. Cackling, he nodded and gestured to each of his colleagues to hastily recover and move out. Emerson pulled me to my feet then bent to hike me over his shoulder, which he'd done with substantial effort.

"Can you believe we fended off a former Turk? Oh ho, don't you all feel just great?"

"Sar, brag about it later. Move!"

--

Vincent groaned miserably as he lay practically in traction atop the broken pile of wall fallen from the third floor. Watching the owner of the inn and his child gawk at the destruction partially bathed in yellow light spilling from the interior, he scrambled out of the mess, unhooking his cape from a deadly skewer of wood narrowly missed in his fall. His eyes spun about to seek his gun which sat wedged into some debris a few feet away. Snatching it up thus, he rushed around the inn to its front, where he spied the band of thieving lab coats make their escape west out of town.

He gave chase, shortly joined by Tifa and a gaggle of the WRO workers.

As she ran beside Vincent, she shouted, "What's going on?"

"They have Drana!" he said, plowing forth in a spurt of momentum.

Tifa slowed to a stop, while her company continued to follow Vincent to the city limits. He removed a few marble-sized materia from a pocket in his holster and snapped them into place along the chamber, then pulled the rifle's butt into the crook of his arm. He took aim, though at no fleeting figure in particular. Vincent pulled the trigger and a dark blot propelled ahead of him like a comet.

The roving blackness caught on the underfoot of the scientists, lifting three of them off their feet, smacking them against each other and finally laying them in a heap on the nighttime grasses in measly cries of pain.

"Saristis, do something!" the woman cried as she crawled to her knees.

"Get back, I'm going to summon!"

"We need about fifteen minutes, Sar!"

Saristis waved materia as red as his hair, pulsing with searing light, in the air. As though he had written a message out with the orb's luminescence, the tiny flickering flames bolstered into a cap of fire then burst and rained down on the earth around him and his party.

Vincent and the WRO youths halted dead in their tracks as fists of enlivened heat licked and lapped at the surrounding air, warding them away from the kidnappers. Sparks of fire crackled and spat until more than just fists formed of the constant activity. An ignited silhouette rose high above the rest, burning and burning, roaring flames and stamping small infernos.

In all his life, Vincent had never done battle with a summoned beast. Summons were the Planet's raw power given temporary magic flesh. He knew that nature fought without pulling punches; that, given the occasion, it would demonstrate how much more of a ruthless force it could be than mankind. And tonight, he would face this demonstration firsthand, alongside a crop of untested but well-meaning young soldiers, soldiers who were even less equipped for the job at hand.

"Damn," he cursed under his breath, loading new materia. Positioning his gun, he yelled, "Fall back!"

"But sir-"

"This isn't playtime, move!"

Loping like an ape on fire, the summoned man-shaped giant of a spirit advanced upon Vincent, spitting magma over the distance between it and him. The gunman took one step back for every one step the creature took forward, trying hard to maintain a healthy gap away from the walking inferno. Even standing four yards away, the sweltering heat assaulted him and drenched his body in sweat.

Frozen blue fire shot from the snout of Vincent's gun, spearing the summon in its face with javelins of ice. It screeched and reared up, slapping at the stinging cold and flames that heretofore had kept its true face hidden. In a whirling fit, it pitched its head into the ground with such brute force that the javelins snapped and shattered to pieces. Face uncovered, the snarling demonic visage belched forth a stream of liquid fire.

"Vincent!"

"Tifa, be careful!"

"Whoa!" Tifa bounced just short a foot of Vincent's backward shuffling heels, hands landing on his shoulders for support. "Is, is that-"

"Yes, it is," he replied, firing off more rounds of ice-powered bullets. The summon reeled and frenzied from each volley but never dared relent in its advance. The brutish, hawk-nosed face and roaring jaws of talon-like teeth made Vincent wish he still possessed the power of Chaos. No other time would have been more perfect. The memory of that devil's spotless cruelty shone as a bloody hope in his briefly guilt-ridden eyes.

"Those guys are going to get away," Tifa fretted.

"Unfortunately."

"Having a little trouble, Mr. Valentine?" Saristis crowed from the safety of the summon's rear.

"Well, that guy's a pompous ass when he wants to be," Tifa spat.

"There's the plane, Sar!"

"I thank you for such an exhilarating chase while it lasted."

Vincent let a volley fly but was quickly stunted by a grand ball of hellfire billowing above his head.

"Shit."


	19. Chapter 18: Fangs

_**18: And the Fangs

* * *

**_

-----

"Vince, you can't beat yourself up over what happened. You'll get another chance. There's always other chances."

"I know. This isn't over."

The burns were minimal thanks to Vincent's quick-thinking and preparedness with a handful of materia. He counted the survival of a summon's super-charged onslaught towards the greatest once-in-a-lifetime boon a person could ever hope to spend. It was also a blessing that paled in comparison to the release of Chaos's vicegrip on his soul. In the latter half of all his sixty years, he never dreamed of escaping the demon. Yet, when the unfeasible became feasible, no other event would top its precedence ever again.

An uncertain gloom descended upon the two, tailed by the shame of a forced retreat. Tifa tended to the burns on his pale cheeks, her touch quite motherly but hardly assuaging her companion's fog of self-deprecation. Vincent would not be swayed until he'd done what he set out to do.

The scene played over and over again in his mind:

The plane touching down beyond the rise of infernos. The scientists hastening their catch into its fuselage. The door closing. The craft rising back into the sky. The summon snuffing itself out like a light once its master had gone and all power expended for the instance. The plane vanishing into the night.

It headed east.

In time that detail would lead Vincent back onto the path of valor and victory.

"Looks like the renovations on Shinra Mansion will have to wait with this develop-"

"No, I'll handle this," he said.

"Wait Vincent, you _have _to tell me why you want to take those guys on all by yourself," Tifa voiced with exasperation. "I mean, granted they're brittle as twigs— brainy types usually are— but there's no telling what they're truly capable of. I mean, tonight, were you expecting them to have materia of that caliber?"

"Tifa-"

"C'mon, if you can't trust me with the truth, who _can _you trust? Answer me that." She folded her arms over each other and glared down at the raven-haired man. He nearly hadn't the heart to peer into her soft brown eyes. With a nod, he conceded defeat.

"For them."

"Them? Oh... them. Um, do you feel it's a responsibility only you can manage?" she asked. Then the woman gasped. "Oh, so you have a thing for Drana. Because…?"

Silence.

"Of Lucrecia. But how does she fit into the picture again? You see her in Drana somehow, something like that?"

"She has Lucrecia's spirit. Her energy. I can't say more than that." Vincent slouched heavily into his chair and out of the Tifa's medicating hands. He pressed a gloved finger to his burns, savoring the dull sting they exuded. He grimaced in such a bittersweet manner as to baffle the woman when she bent down to finish caring for his petty injuries. "If Drana were here, there'd be no need for the sprays, the ointments, the bandages."

"Vincent… It's almost like you've become a stranger all over again. I never had the guts to really say it before but... You've sort of changed. It's kind of scary," she noted, her voice pensive. Vincent's grimace faded away into nothing. He hadn't realized much change in himself apart from a slight verve for life not felt since decades ago as a Turk. And his love for Lucrecia reborn.

"I think Drana has that effect on people," he said a little less than brusquely. "There's something in her touch."

"Maybe that's what brought Sephiroth back? That's what got rid of Chaos?" Tifa pressed, falling into a hush thereafter. She stepped back from her companion, tapping her chin in deliberation. "I wonder if she touched Cloud... I don't think this hermit thing he's been doing is natural for him."

"Who knows?"

"Well, at any rate, Vincent," Tifa piped, "I can't let you do this alone. Now, I have no problem playing the hapless sidekick or the ditzy secretary for a little while, but we're still a team. There _must _be something I can do where I'm not stepping on your toes but I'm still a part of the action..."

"It's too soon to completely throw everything out of proportion." Vincent stretched to his feet, adjusted his cape and gloves and combed back his hair. He quickly devised plans, small ones, simple ones, as to his next course of action, but in spite of the urge to just run off and do everything on his own, he considerately mulled over Tifa's nimble shape. "Why don't you call Reeve and get him started on recon?"

"Is that all?" she asked, sounding disappointed.

"For the moment," he said. "I have to go."

--

A wave of fatigue struck Vincent just as his rear touched the seat of the bike. It was nearing dawn and he hadn't a true moment's rest since the morning before. He suddenly wasn't sure if he should rest or push himself further. With the scientists already an untold number of steps ahead, whether he rested or not, he had to wait until Reeve got a solid lead— if one at all— on their whereabouts.

He exhaled tiredly, briefly viewing the darkling, dawning sky. His eyes drifted to the east.

A prompt glitter flashed below his line of sight before he caught its source ripping across his shoulder. A wing of blood sprouted, staining his hair and left eye blind, driving him off-balance and onto one knee next to his bike. The glitter made its home cold and deep, the pain evinced now only comparable to the sting of his burnt face.

It was unlike him to be caught off guard like this. But the mounting agony excused his error.

"Tell me where Drana is. I can smell her on you. You did something."

"Whatever I've done is nothing against what you did to her," he spat, feeling the shimmer soon push him to his other knee. Though at the mercy of the previously unseen blade, Vincent refused to fully yield, not without good reason. But he'd also refused to pull out his weapon. In this position, it would've only ensured more pain for him, pain he hadn't the patience to deal with. "Sephiroth... what…"

"Mr. Valentine, I'll make sure you never interfere with us again," his assailant whispered.

"You can't kill me," growled Vincent.

"That almost sounded like an order... but I answer to no one," Sephiroth laughed lowly.

"If you kill me, you'll never find her until it's too late, do you want that?!"

"I don't need anyone's help." The declaration at first rolled out in a snicker, but quickly ebbed to the sharpest cold. "Most certainly not from you. From day one, you've been a threat to us, a nuisance. I won't let you get away with it. I can't. I'll carve you into the finest ribbons of meat for the worms."

"You're unbelievable," Vincent snarled. He reached up and grabbed the elongated blade flat between his gloved palms and lifted it as he got to his feet. Sephiroth had luckily not provided resistance against his rise, keeping the sword only safely wedged upon his collarbone and shoulder blade and in his flesh. Except radiate an extreme chill of malice, his assailant merely stood there, eyes glowing feral and green in the night. A quivering shadow dangled over one of his arms, trickling sluggish ooze down his side.

"Oh. Am I?"

Vincent chuckled and nodded. "I know what she did. And I know you'll be disgracing her by killing me. All her work gone down the drain. It didn't take a genius to figure out her plans for you. And it won't take a genius to find out where you'll go because you can't be a human again for once. Hear me, Sephiroth? In that thick gray head of yours? Understand what I'm getting at?

"No, of course you don't. Blinded by the same bloodlust and hunger for power that got you killed in the first place. I see now. You just want to die again. Sabotage the second life Drana gave you, that she assumed you'd put to good use. Yes, show her how much of a man you _aren't_ by-"

"Shut up," Sephiroth hissed.

The gash in Vincent's shoulder throbbed more intensely now than when he'd first been cut, buckling his knees; the wound fought to retain its heat under the thrall of the razor-sharp offender. The lofty man's eyes had shrunk to mere glowing slits in the night all the while, focusing more on suspicion than controlled rage. Swiftly and soundlessly, his foot swung up to meet the gunman's jaw with a fresh snap and crack of teeth on teeth, skull on bike.

Sephiroth cleared his throat and unsheathed his sword from Vincent's flesh, snapping the thin shred of meat and cloth that kept it in place. Eventually he muttered, "What makes you think you know anything about me?"

"I… We chased Jenova to the ends of the earth. She was... a good medium for your ambitions, and all your words, your thoughts. It's what she did... right?" Breathing hard and cradling his shoulder, Vincent vied to sit upright against his bike. His mouth luckily nursed no pool of blood, but his jaws ached as if they'd been crushed by rocks.

"Just tell me where she is," Sephiroth intoned as he knelt before Vincent.

"I'll tell you— I'll even help you— if I go along, too," he bargained.

Mirth.

"Drana's mine, all mine. Why do I need the help of a dead man?"

"I'm your only lead on her kidnapping."

"... if I weren't experiencing a few... technical difficulties, I'd not have hesitated to dismember you right here and now. And she would already be back with me."

A pause.

"Technical dif-"

"One time and one time only, I'll let my judgment slide," Sephiroth stated in barefaced dismay. "I'll let you live and show me the way, but only because of her. Try anything, dead man. Anything at all. Not even the Planet will welcome you back when I'm done with you."

"... you don't make much an effort at all." Vincent smirked up at the gray-headed man, though amazingly enough his calm expression went unnoticed. He exhaled. Such a close call with death at the hands of Sephiroth amused him sorely. For Lucrecia's son, as he acted then and now, was nearly a Chaos unto himself but far more agreeable in the reasoning department. And sparingly merciful, to boot.

Sephiroth laid a hand on Vincent's wound, coating the whole left side of his face and shoulder with a soothing green-white light.

"Wh, what are you doing?"

"Drana isn't the only one who can heal, dead man," he said, pulling his bloodied hand away. "I just choose not to. I don't have the amount of good will she has."

"Obviously."

Sephiroth shuffled back on bare toes, allowing Vincent room to get to his feet. All the pain, even the burns that Tifa had spent time dressing so carefully that were now little more than blush on his cheeks, had died away. Refreshed, he could have challenged his healer to a final fight but he owed it to the other for sparing his life while at his mercy. He put a spot of distance between Sephiroth and himself by calmly strolling to the other side of his bike, thoughtlessly dusting off his cape and seat of his pants.

Still crouched on the ground like a cat watching its prey, Sephiroth uttered, "Now tell me where she is."

"Some men snatched her," Vincent replied. "Lab coats. They went somewhere east. I've already got recon in the works."

"The lead you have is trivial enough for me to kill you anyways."

* * *

-----

"What a hottie."

"She looks like Sephiroth, too!"

"Alright, back off, I need room."

Rufus mulled over the new happenings emailed to him by the incorrigible Saristis Noah. He'd hoped the man would have hit a dead end in the search for his ultimate being by now, but he couldn't have been more wrong. The mug shot attachment proved surprisingly enough that such a thing might exist in unanticipated human form. The Planet's beloved Weapons maintained the norm by appearing more beast than human; this pleasant breaking of the mold practically swept him off his feet.

Tseng gazed silently at the computer screen over his boss's head, then nodded. "So there's confirmation of General Sephiroth's existence."

"It's only verbal," Rufus shrugged. "I'll believe it when I see a picture or the genuine article."

"It'd be the real deal this time, right?" Elena asked. "Like, the real Sephiroth instead of Jenova? I wonder what he's like. I only ever saw him from afar when I was younger."

"I can bet ya he'll be damn pissed those science bitches took his lady," Reno said, jabbing a thumb at the onscreen image.

"I think it's strange for a zombie to have a lady," Elena mused, standing from her boss's side.

"I wonder if zombie is even an accurate term for our old general." Rufus closed the email and sat back in his chair. His eyes leisurely wafted to the open window on his left where a somewhat unobstructed view of the sunny yellow streets and bustling docks far beyond greeted him. It was a bit soon to be hanging out in yet another tropical setting but this was as close to Junon as he was willing to get without being outright noticed. From his villa there in Costa del Sol, he monitored WRO activity with near utmost safety as well as maintained awkward contact with Saristis.

"Boss, as far as the lab coats are concerned, I'm with ya on taking a backseat," Reno stated, taking a dive butt-first onto the sofa. "But... eh... Gotta admit I'm curious about this broad and Zombie Sephiroth."

"Me, too," the lady Turk chimed.

"So, birds of a feather really do flock together," Rufus murmured under his breath, turning back to his desktop. "But... I think the WRO is going to want in on this."

"You've misgivings, too?" Tseng asked from above.

"Anything to do with Sephiroth and old Shinra is worth a misgiving, if I do say so myself. I'll let Noah know I'm still curious but I'll also have my mole let Reeve know of their activity." Rufus casually laid his fingers on mouse and keyboard, smirking and uttering, "Ah gambits and espionage. I think this should have been my calling all along."


	20. Chapter 19: Body Bites

_**19: The Body Bites**_

"_It does." -Drana

* * *

-----  
_

"Vincent, I can't believe you-"

"I think that goes without saying."

"It's _SEPHIROTH._"

"It's for Drana, bear with me," Vincent entreated with a reluctant glance in Sephiroth's direction. As he stood between him and Tifa, a guarded tension began to swell. She stood with a hand pressed firmly between her breasts, as if something rested there that she felt the need to hide. Glancing back to Sephiroth, his feline eyes were notably devoid of any emotion as they regarded the woman. Vincent couldn't help but feel unnerved, himself. Their bond was so unnatural and unsavory and hastily and sloppily forged, he was surprised to see no one yet dead in the room at that very moment.

The stench proved yet another challenge: the spiked, oozing black wing jutting from Sephiroth's shoulder belched a stifling odor that seemed to want to coax his company to pass out on the floor. But they gave their best efforts to fight it, ignore it. Still, it was difficult; when the ooze fell on the carpet, it steamed on the fabric, blackened it, and caused it bubble, inciting other smells equally as putrid. The mortified Tifa tried to urge the unwelcome visitor elsewhere with dagger eyes but he never budged.

He watched her; he watched Vincent.

"Why... why is he like that anyways?" she whispered.

"'Technical difficulties.'"

"Eh?"

"His words," he nodded. "I didn't ask."

"So you're in cahoots with him now... to get Drana back."

"Regrettably," Vincent sighed. "I know it's a partnership made in hell but I had no other choice. I'm simply human now, although not without a few tweaks left over; I had to bargain for my life." Yet he admittedly found it exhilarating to know his life was really on the line for something as important as the Planet itself once again. Tifa's misunderstanding in his statement looked obvious enough on her face. How could he explain? But he knew she was smart; she'd figure it out on her own.

She exhaled and glared at Sephiroth once more. "So what does that mean? It, it means you're stuck with him?"

"More or less."

"On the contrary," Sephiroth voiced quite suddenly. "He need only show me the way and I'll get her back myself."

"Of course that's not happening," Vincent retorted.

"Because you want to help Lucrecia," Tifa added.

Sephiroth broke from his lonely stance, everything about him flaring with enormous intensity. The gunman instinctively reached for his holstered weapon, ready to subdue the other in whatever way possible. He waited for him to make a move but nothing happened. Instead:

"That... wench of a doctor? You, what are you hiding?"

To Sephiroth he uttered, "Lucrecia's inside Drana. I want to save her."

"So now I see your pathetic little angle," the other scoffed. "Trying to rescue a wretched lingering dreg."

"You know, Vincent, now that I think about it," Tifa interjected with a worrisome frown, "your motivation seems a little... out there. Are you really sure Drana has Lucrecia floating around inside her? And if so, what then? You save her and she thanks you... by turning into Lucrecia and going away with you and loving you forever and ever? That sounds a bit too romantic, even for you. And I don't think that's you. At all."

"You might be right," he said, his voice so laden with defeat that he could have collapsed into a pile of flesh at his own feet. But the idea wasn't as far-fetched as Tifa seemed to think. He realized Lucrecia brought that rare romantic nature out in him. For years it laid dormant beneath Chaos and distant memories but now, it saw a chance in recovering what had been lost, a poor, ridiculous chance. However, it was just enough hope, just enough faith. "... Lucrecia or not, I'm indebted to Drana. I have to do something."

"Hmm." Sephiroth smirked darkly, at the same time wincing under the burden clinging to his arm like a malignant tumor. His company huddled farther away from him, musing between each other their upcoming plans and the unwelcome addition to what they could hardly call a team.

"The faster we get to Drana, the easier it'll be to keep Sephiroth in check," Vincent whispered hastily. "There's no doubt he'll become more unreasonable the longer they're separated, so I think it's time we blow things out of proportion."

"I'm still waiting on a word from Reeve," Tifa told him, shrugging. "Who knows when he'll call back? So, I think we're gonna be hoping for lots of windfalls."

"Windfalls are all we have."

-

Tifa had departed to rest her weary and slightly burnt bones. Vincent, earlier refreshed by Sephiroth's rare healing touch, untiringly sat in one of the rear rooms away from the nosy workers who weren't busy actually getting some sleep at this wee hour of the morning. Sephiroth himself followed the raven-haired man like a shadow beast, overtly sizing him up from a corner of the same room he occupied. He wasn't about to let this man out of his sight, not even for a minute. He grinned invisibly, marking down each detail of weakness he could assemble from his inspection.

_So human, it hurts, _he surmised in secret.

With the overgrown bat dispatched to the unknown, Sephiroth saw that this man posed no more danger to him than any average monster, but with a gun. Alone, he'd be easy to murder. Even with his female companion, or if their entire team of heroes had gathered once more to fight him, an edge was had: An advantage and privilege he'd been granted over the course of nearly two years. It was more than a trump card, it was the clincher for overcoming all obstacles that came or would come his way. The people around him as mere parts of mankind were their foremost weaknesses that he saw working in his favor.

Sephiroth fought back a chuckle while watching Vincent all the more intently.

The gunman sat on a stool next to the wall, staring back in an uneasy fashion. Lofty feline eyes fluttered over the black and red form, still deliberating on a pleasant way to get rid of him once everything was over and done with. Sephiroth remained aloof in his corner, but a smile crept upon his lips, to which he was sure Vincent regarded with real fear.

He spied the other man's lips part only a bit.

"What are you doing?" he asked finally.

Only that smile answered, wordless but devious.

"Sephiroth, you can stand there and look evil all you want, you can't scare me," he declared, his body tense all over and lamentably belying what he'd just said.

"Lying isn't healthy, dead man."

"I'd never give you the satisfaction," rebutted Vincent, juggling two cell phones in his hand. He checked both but to the dismay on his face, not a call had gotten though. He then slouched uncomfortably on his stool, packing them away in his holster.

Sephiroth quietly drifted up next to the man, staring down at the top of his head. In the short moments that Vincent hadn't yet noted his presence, his closer scrutiny continued. But no coherent thought seemed to materialize, rather bits and pieces, instead. The only prominent bit and piece he managed to fully retrieve had been the name Lucrecia. He inexplicably bristled, raising a silent hand upon Vincent, not yet knowing how this action would turn out. Then the gunman turned his face up to Sephiroth's, his red-brown eyes solemn and perhaps cross.

"Drana's right," he muttered. "You're learning. But you're slow, too slow. Prodigious at one thing and a failure at another. At the rate that Shinra interferes as well, I could judge correctly that you're but a lost cause. It's a shame that she still cares, still hopes when she doesn't realize that…"

Sephiroth snatched his hand back, his human eyes briefly sparking through his dark exterior. The gunman flinched for a second, also seeming to sense this tiny change in the other, which made him rise from his stool and step back entirely. Sephiroth bristled even more, this time redirecting it against Vincent's words. It had been a while since anyone managed to push his buttons the way this man did. Acting as if he knew things, assuming such that hit a little close to home, spiting his pride.

"No one decides if my cause is lost or not but me," he hissed as usual.

"Did you decide to come back to life on your own?"

"I will not be a memory, I will not be the past, I am-"

"Will alone can't cut it, Sephiroth," Vincent interrupted. "There's power, too. You should know that. No, there's always an outside force, and guess what? Drana's it. She made you and she could probably take you away, too."

Sephiroth thrust his hand slick with ooze at Vincent's neck, snapping him between his fingers like a fairly helpless insect. His face was creased with immeasurable pain, wondering in severity why this man would ever want to slander him and his very being. Other than his birth, he held steadfast the reins of his life. He controlled everything, so why not mastermind his own comeback? Why not this and why not that?

Sephiroth began to reel inside his skull. Dizziness struck him fast, shaking Vincent from his fingers and dropping them both on their hands and knees. Through grit teeth, he babbled, "What's going on? How can I... lose it so quickly? Drana, yes, I need Drana. She will fix me and I'll... show you all."

"Se, Sephiroth, you make, you make her sound like some gods-forsaken drug," Vincent struggled to say from alongside him.

"She is more, she is Lifestream," he corrected with a broken smile. "She would kill lowly humans like you... but me... I…"

"You realize... you sound like an addict? Or an idiot, whichever is more appropriate to the situation... " Sephiroth glowered at Vincent as the man labored not to laugh in his face. A murderous hand reached out again for the gunman but bit back the urge.

"A pity you humans would never understand."

"And you do? You're human. Or you were."

"Same old song and dance…" He grunted and hoisted himself to his feet. "I need her back. Then the sooner I can get rid of you. Well, get to work, dead man."

"You really should stop calling me that."


	21. Chapter 20: Body Bites 2

_**20: The Body Bites Part 2

* * *

**_

-----

I sat in a lonely place no bigger than a common bathroom. It felt like a box hanging somewhere in space, the emptiest in or out of this universe. Sometimes, I felt peace, peace away from my captors. The rest of the time I felt utterly trapped, sealed off in a limbo I assumed was the closest I'd ever get to death without dying. I was sitting inside my own death come to life.

There was color. No blackness. A single light beamed down from the center of the low ceiling, and it shed a blue tint on everything from the strange window on my left to the walls where their corners were so seamless, I had no real idea where they ended or began. And the bench on which I sat, attached to the wall, seemed to blend in with the floor so well, I thought I was floating. Then I'd look down to my bare feet, see the shadow hiding behind my heels and know that I wasn't.

I lost time in this room. For as long as I sat here, nothing changed except when I blinked. Color would dim for a few seconds then revert to its scant brightness.

Occasionally I hummed to myself. Occasionally, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep but the silence scared me.

Maybe this room was sound-proof.

Then a knock sounded, followed by a hiss of air and a low groan of shifting metal.

"Hello, our precious little bird," greeted a voice.

"Huh…?"

"Time for the best part of our jobs."

The dreary blue room melted into a long hallway of steel and concrete lit by saucer shaped lights suspended overhead. The walls out here were bare just like in the blue room, although a few modest doors appeared now and then along the way. Along the way... to where?

To another room. This one with a heavy looking door and wired window.

Saristis and two men that I'd never seen before, not exactly burly and not exactly frail, directed me into this room blue, white and pristine. Full of sharp things, tubes, and flasks of all shapes and sizes; books and binders in plastic on lonely shelves; big machines against the walls; little machines on wheeled stands gathered around a bed, board or whatever it was sitting on a big metal bar. The redhead's friends were gathered in here, too, waiting for me, dressed in more white than my eyes could handle. Even their hands were gloved in white.

I froze in the arms of the two unimportant men, prompting Saristis to circle round in front of me with an all too curious look.

"Something wrong?"

"I-"

"Oh, I know what the problem is," he said, smiling and snapping his fingers. "Don't worry, we'll start with something simple... like... a, a physical examination. How's that sound? Not too terribly invasive. These two will take care of that. My colleagues and I will be in the observation room."

With my mouth slack enough to catch a dozen flies, these new orderlies of mine drew me closer to the bedlike thing in the room's center while the scientists scrambled to another door far in the back.

"If you'll please, ma'am, take off your clothes and put on this gown," said one of the orderlies. "If not, we can always do it _for _you."

"N... no, I can…" Taking the gown as it was gently shoved into my arms, I turned away from the men. In seeing the big, long window in the room's rear, I hesitated. There was no real place to turn for privacy.

I dropped to my knees behind the table, shrugged the gown down over my head and tried to take my clothes off underneath. With every sharp movement, I heard the tiniest tear. _A gown made out of paper?_ This was an unusual sort of trial I had to cope with, but there were worse things than paper clothes. Either way, as soon as I succeeded in donning the gown and fumbled with the ties at my sides, the orderlies hiked me to my feet and plucked me onto the table.

"Alright, you know the drill."

"No I don't-"

Orderly Number One flicked a light on in my eyes, forcing me to bounce back. Orderly Number Two snatched me up from behind and seated me correctly while the other hemmed and hawed to himself, fixing something to his little light and shining it in my ears, my nose and mouth. He nodded at whatever results he'd decided on and tossed it away.

"Wh..." Their stern faces emphatically kept me from wanting to speak. The men didn't even so much as make eye contact with me.

Number Two pressed a cold circle of something to my bare back, running it up and down, left and right. "Well, there's your heartbeat, alright," he mumbled, switching places with his buddy, and slipping that circle on a tube down the front of my gown. "Take a deep breath."

"O-okay…"

Switching places with his buddy again, Number Two said, "'Nother deep breath."

"Open your mouth, please." Number One stuck a cotton swab in my mouth, swished it around and then stuck it in a tube in his pocket. "Alright, now which one of us wants to cop a feel first?"

"Get serious, the boss is watching."

"Yeah, yeah… Lie back." Both the orderlies pushed and pulled on my shoulders, straightening me out on top of the table. Slapping on some new white gloves, Number Two sharply ripped a slit in the front of my gown and pulled it open slightly. "You got some nice skin, lady."

How could I stand this? It was easier to say I didn't, not one bit, but like I did with Sephiroth, I learned to sit and bear it. Though naturally I knew by now that it wasn't the smartest thing to do. The odds were against me. Muddled by panic, I couldn't focus on calling for help in any way, shape or form outside of my own body, outside of this room. I stayed gripped by the palpable dread webbing across my skin.

Pokes and prods at my breasts caused me to stiffen my entire body.

"Mammary glands…eh… seem to be lacking," said one of the orderlies. "I don't feel anything in there. It's like water in a bag."

"Write that down."

"... okay, now I'll check the abdominal area and pubis."

I sucked in my stomach and snapped my thighs as tightly together as possible, though this didn't fend off the encroaching hands. I squeezed my eyes shut, wringing tears from the burning ache and strain. The wooden touch of these men miraculously felt worse than that of Sephiroth's rough 'affection'. At least him I'd known personally, but these strangers frazzled my nerves near to oblivion. _So, I'd rather suffer a familiar pain than an unknown one… That's very funny._

"Nope. Nothing. Other than that, everything looks in order down here…"

"That smell."

"What smell?"

"Her. It's kind of sweet, like pungent, you know... Mideel."

"Dude-"

"Prep a smear."

* * *

----

"I can't sense you… Why? Is it you, Mother? You interfere with what's rightfully mine? Shame on you. You knew my decision, yet now you…"

Sephiroth cradled the festering wing between his hands, brow furrowed and scathing enough to cut down a forest. Instead it cut across Vincent's figure coincidentally in the way of his gaze. He smirked at what he playfully regarded as a living mummy, wrapped in crimson and black with a fresh human head tacked on top. But he found the gunman so insignificant that all thoughts of morbidity and violence slipped away as soon as they arrived.

Only one thing truly concerned him now.

"Ignoring me, you bitch. But how can I stay mad at you? How can I stay mad at that delicious little body of yours?" Sephiroth frowned, pulling his shoulder close. "Things were so much easier with Mother and only Mother. Together, we wanted one thing, just one."

"Sephiroth, sitting there on the floor isn't helping anything. We have a plane to catch," Vincent said soberly.

"I need to know," he whispered, slowly raising his head. "Where is she? I need to sense her. But all I can... is... Her. On you. You, touching her, but she-"

"Sephiroth. Please. Cid's waiting."

"Me, the great Sephiroth... crumbling so easily. I'm not supposed to feel so dejected like a lowly human anymore; I've risen above them-"

"Sephiroth, honestly, shut it. Drana's waiting. Isn't that what you want? Get up and let's go."

He chuckled, at himself and Vincent's harshness. He didn't have to look at the man to know he still briskly kept his distance, barking like an irate dog safe behind his fence at the monster lounging patiently on the other side. From where did this man pull his shadowy bravado? _Of course, it could only be her,_ thought Sephiroth. A shining hope for a hopeless man, and a hopeless race. Then the notion slapped him suddenly.

He was hopeless, too.

To share a state with the rest of humanity left a sour taste in his mouth.

He stood up, shook his arm and wing free of excess sludge, and stepped into the doorway, leisurely blocking it from Vincent's approach. The taller man turned to face the other, grinning dismally for reasons unknown even to himself. The gunman's hand moved imperceptibly out of eyesight, though there was only one place where it could have gone. His holster. An amusing reaction to an amusing action.

"She means a lot to you, doesn't she?" he asked.

"What?"

"And it isn't just the sad soul that has snagged on her. I would tell you to get your own but she's one of a kind. And she's mine."

"Lucky you," Vincent grumbled in return.

"Only I'll ever know how delicious she is, inside and out, while you have to brave the insuperable human lot. Must make your blood boil…"

The gunman spoke not a word.

"As I thought."

At last he remarked, "I don't think you have time to play mind games on me, Sephiroth. If you still want to save Drana, we're packing up and heading to Costa del Sol."

* * *

----

"Take a look at these results from the physical and quote-unquote blood test."

Within the observation room, the quintet of scientists sat at the table, poring over clipboards and test tubes with decent wonder. Saristis laughed at every other page he laid eyes upon, gasped and made every sort of satisfied noise imaginable. Nearly three hours following the examination, the redhead could hardly contain his anxiety and now he was bursting at the seams.

"So its morphology encircles all the bare essentials of a human female, however, excluding what would be a complete reproductive system," Saristis stated, his brow pinched and lips thoughtful.

"That's not even half of it, Sar," Aridale said, thrusting a sheet of paper in his face. "The blood test. No plasma, no cells, no anything that makes blood... blood. And then, take a look, traces of multiple genetic schemes. Humans only have one set, a combination of what's been passed down from their parents. But… It's as if she's made of several different scores of people, if anything."

"We also ran the samples through a series of chemical and radiological tests."

"Lifestream," Evvey voiced out of the blue.

"Yes, the constitution mimics almost exactly that in past tests conducted on Mako and Lifestream respectively," Saristis said, adjusting his glasses. "One thing, though, Kit. Note that we must run an I.D. check on the genetic schemes we found. Surely, Shinra kept those kinds of prints in their records of anyone particularly special that they came across. Like the Cetra family or the old general himself, anyone who's ever been part of an experiment."

"You know that counts for a whole town, an army, and then some, Sar," the woman divulged in a bit of a singsong tone. "Won't we have a fine time picking through that mess…"

"Heh... true."

"I think we should arrange a biopsy and a brain scan," Emerson proposed. "If the physical points to that woman's insides being nothing but Lifestream, I want to see how she's able to think, able to feel, and if that skin is really skin."

"We can always dissect her later, as well," Aridale said, feigning a voice of boredom. "But I can at least agree on the brain scan. If she has one in that noggin of hers, I want to see how it works, too."

"Okay, then," the redhead scholar called out, slapping his hands together. "Jenna and I will focus on everything from the cervical smear and blood test. Emerson, you get started on the brain scan, and if need be, the biopsy. Evvey, you take care of Quelin, but walk with me a bit and I'll give you some other important tasks, too."

"Yessir."


	22. Chapter 21: Body Bites 3

_**21: The Body Bites Part 3**_

"_This isn't quite how I pictured it…" -Drana

* * *

-----  
_

This premonition couldn't be shaken. He wasn't popular for making predictions as anything but his counterpart, yet with Vincent's urgency and Tifa nipping at his busy heels not far behind, Reeve had to follow suit. He had to start thinking about what fishy goings-on were being conducted out there somewhere. The last thing he wanted, the last thing anyone wanted, was a repeat of what Shinra had done to nearly bring the earth to the brink of destruction.

Reeve nervously stroked his goatee, tired eyes glimpsing the papers strewn across his desk but racing out of focus at the very sight. It was almost midnight but the only thoughts his mind pursued were that of danger in the extremely near future.

Shinra brought trouble because it'd been built on trouble. He'd considered himself lucky to have gotten out of the company before it was too late, but this corporate demon of the past sought to dog him either way.

Reeve's computer suddenly beeped to life at his right, the screen fading in from black to white with the WRO logo in the background— it was a humble image of the Planet and the letters W, R, and O warped and fitted perfectly into the sphere. A textbox awaited him in its center over the logo, heralding new mail.

"Hmm?" He reached for his mouse and settled the cursor on the window. "Voicemail…"

"Hello, this is your friendly neighborhood mole, at your service," announced the garbled recording. "I have a message from those serving in the best interests of your beloved World Regenesis Organization. We believe that cohorts of yours, Commissioner Reeve Tuesti, happen to be searching for a man named Saristis Noah, and fortunately enough for you all, information has been arranged on the man's absurdly elusive location.

"The underground has been infested with rats lately, some too big to be ignored, Commissioner. We can only hope that Junon does not become ground zero for another worldwide crisis thanks to the shenanigans of a company that's supposed to be long dead and gone. We will leave matters in the hands of your heroes, as we wish to stay anonymous, and pray for the best. Godspeed."

Reeve narrowed his eyes at the voicemail's textbox, absorbing each and every word he could into memory before replay.

"Does... that mean they're here in Junon?" he asked himself. "Hmm."

* * *

----

Sephiroth had oddly turned to unflappability, allowing Vincent to seat him in the absolute rear of the plane away from Tifa and their attendant troop of flighty WRO youths. For as soon as he stepped onto the plane, they went batty from his stench within the closed quarters, retching and stumbling over the seats. The contented grin in the face of repulsion was enough for Tifa to stand her ground and glare him down in wordless aggravation.

But the gunman stepped in and coaxed each the other to opposite ends of the cabin.

Something didn't sit, however.

There came the inkling that Sephiroth would commit some sort of evil stunt from the safety of his own corner. Anything was possible with him. The prolonged exposure to purest Lifestream made it a valid concern. And his expression. Not knowing whether it was just the pleasure of watching others fall head over heels because of him or not made Vincent grit his teeth.

The man was far beyond the state of unwell.

_We need to get her, fast.

* * *

  
_

----

"Wh-what are you going to do?" I pleaded, my voice at an unruly height in my throat. "I-I don't want... anymore."

"How you've broken so quickly, but we can't stop because we just started. When the going gets tough... pick her up now!" the fat scientist exclaimed to the orderlies surrounding me. They each picked an arm and hoisted me up between them, then hauled me off to the next room across the hall from where I'd been earlier mistreated. This new room housed a hulk of a machine with a table crowned by an arch of metal and strange utensils jutting from its sides.

Broken. It couldn't even begin to describe how I felt beneath the surface. I was not broken, but the fissured glass of my being shivered and cut into itself. Like I could truly collapse in on my own body at any moment. As much as I didn't want that, I was in no position to stop it. All I could do was call out to Aerith, call out to Sephiroth, even call out to the Planet, call out to _someone _while these men searched me over and over for what I didn't even know existed within the human body and if they existed in mine, too.

The orderlies hauled my purposely dead weight to the machine. Steadily, they placed me on this new table cushioned with something not quite plastic yet soft and comfortable all the same. Straps were pulled over my chest and thighs, sticky circles with wires dangling everywhere pasted to my forehead. The fat scholar then walked out of sight behind the machine.

"Are all the nodes in place?" his voice grunted.

"Yes sir."

"Alright. Stand back, I don't need your halfwit brainwaves mucking up the tomograph."

A great whirring started up all around me. I squirmed and shrank at the noise, squeaked at the sudden movement of the table with me on top below the metal arch. Rectangles of boundless black glowed with blue points of light on its underside, burning into my retinas the way the sun would burn blindness into a person's eyes. But they were so dim as to not be noticeable at all.

"Are her eyes open?"

"Yes."

"Tell her to close them."

"Lady, close your eyes, you'll burn your retinas," advised one of the orderlies.

I didn't. Not yet.

"What, what are you doing?"

"Simple brain scan."

"It... doesn't feel good," I whimpered.

Tiny hot spots welled up under the surface of my forehead, tardily traveling up the middle, back to the pate and straight for my spine. Whatever this contraption was doing to me, it made my body feel like it was being boiled and fried from the inside. I writhed in my restraints. Pain curled over my limbs, through my fingers and toes and spilled out their tips. What was happening to me?

"I can't get a clear view of things if she's moving around like that," the man said from nearby. "Hold her down."

"Yes sir."

"Maybe it's the x-rays coming out of that thing messing with her," noted an orderly.

"Hmm… Most humans wouldn't even feel them at this frequency. I have to finish the scan. Hold her down. Put on more restraints. The head, you forgot the head, you idiots."

For a time, I was thankfully pulled from the black eyed stare of the arch, easing the boiling swell throughout me. The orderlies fastened more straps over me, especially my head, and stepped back so I could be drawn under the searing glare once again. This time, snow sprinkled out from the black rectangles, covering my eyes until everything was white.

Then static.

Then Sephiroth briefly appearing in that static, his face sad but also preoccupied by mischief. Where and whatever he was doing, it provided a good distraction from this brief window of clarity between us. My mouth snapped open, prepared to spew a few cries for attention, but nothing came out. My tongue was frozen to the back of my throat.

He was gone.

What replaced him were thick, black bars across the stark whiteness, droning on and on like some broken machine. I could see a beam of red shoot out from the middle of my face into the barred whiteness, raining down bloody, beautiful stars.

I'd surely gone insane.

"Goddamn it, everything's reading off the charts," a voice echoed.

"Maybe you should... turn it off…"

"I've been locked out of the program from all these fatal errors! You, pull the hard plug, now."

"Yes, sir."

As if someone flicked a light switch, all went black, but noises still drifted around me, like the sounds of feet shuffling, frantic whirrings and clickings over a delicate hiss my ears could not place upon a single thing, mild curses and incoherent mumblings about 'this damnable machinery'. The blackness was so busy, I wished that I could see how.

The bars.

They'd never gone, and sneering faces muddled about in their darkness, like transparent monsters. Were they sneering? Perhaps earnest, perhaps witty and mocking, or just curious.

"Pl... Planet."

I had to wonder, with what was the Planet going to 'rescue' me this time and consequently miss the mark? From eggs to lizards to laser-slinging giants dubiously dubbed the Planet's own personal guard, what else was there? _Oh so many things…_ The world was large and wide, infinite for just a simple hunk of rock in even more infinite space.

"Call Dr. Noah. He'll be in Lab 0-1."

A few minutes left me only to silence and frustrated sighs, not to mention the humming bars of black shielding my eyes. The boiling in the back of my head and spine had subsided, calling in its place what felt like a sheet of ice that I was lying on. It felt good in a way that would lull me to sleep if I wanted. And I desperately wanted sleep to come and take me, but I held high hopes for the arrival of my one true savior, holding them close alongside consciousness in this world and its coexistent pain.

"Emerson, what's this all about?" queried the sure voice of the redhead scholar.

"Well, first of all, I'd like to say I think our specimen and x-rays? They don't mix," admitted the fat man's voice. "I'll attempt the use of others, though, but they may prove hazardous, especially if the outcome is just like this, if not worse."

"Mmhmm…"

"While I reconfigure the machine, I was thinking you can have Evvey work on the biopsy in the meantime."

"I sent Kit out on some errands but I'll call him back. And… Hmm. Maybe you should take this to the lower complex? You know how delicate a lot of the tools are up here…"

-

Temporarily abandoned by all but the grumpy scientist, I'd finally gotten a chance to rest and focus on trying to connect with any source of familiar or merely soothing energy floating about. But in this place, this unknown location, had almost no touch with the Lifestream. This place was only a bunch of rooms bottled in by a dome of what I sullenly called no-life.

The sickening power of the rot hiding behind these white walls surely started my hallucinating. In one barren spot of the room, I saw an umbra, a sweet, modest thing with its shadowy head bowed. I hoped and prayed it was Aerith come to save me in some fashion that a ghost was most capable of. But this umbra didn't do a thing but stand there, teasing me with empty hope.

"I'm sorry..." spoke the shadow in a terribly cowed tone.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Just... a lonely spook." The thing motioned closer on cloudy funnels for legs.

"Not Aerith... ?"

"No… I'm no one, no one at all," nodded the muddled ghost.

I couldn't be fooled for much longer. The signs were all there, sparse though they were. A lonely ghost, its posture sulking and humble, the would-be frame long and slight. I wanted to lend an arm out, but all of my body was still strapped down to the table. So instead, I spared a few flutters of my eyelids in its direction. "Lucrecia. I didn't think I'd ever see you again. It's you, right? Sephiroth's mother?"

"I'm not worthy of the name... or the title. I am just a shell. I don't even deserve to be a shadow."

"Please, don't say that. It... hurts me, too," I whispered, pained by those words.

"You've done so much for me. And to see you like this, here, now, like I'd once been, it's enough to draw me from my void and cry. For you, for Sephiroth... for Vincent, I'd love to help but I'm just a ghost. I can't affect the living world. I can't do anything… Without you, I'll have no more ties to this world, no ties to the loved ones I'd left, to my poor son most of all. I can't do a thing…"

"You don't have to do a thing but continue caring for your son... It's all, all I really want to see you do."

"Hey, who are you talking to?"

"Drana, my life as anything remotely living may be over, but... I thank you for an existence in which I can be near my son. I'll repay you. Somehow."

"I heard you say Lucrecia and Sephiroth. What are you babbling about?"

The chubby scholar disinterested me, but in the faceless face of the poor woman's umbra, I wanted so much to hug her again. Without the feeling of poison biting into me, of course. To console her, to connect with this woman I barely knew apart from her pain.

"Please, it's not me that needs consoling anymore. I've accepted everything, my faults, my mistakes. But you-"

"No, I don't need it. Except... for all this, being caught and used. Being used…"

* * *

-----

"Commissioner, we just received report of some unknown creatures rising out of the sea and approaching the fishing village below Junon," blared the intercom on Reeve's desk. "Commissioner?"

"He might not be in the office," confided another. "Did you try his cell phone?"

"What? …oh right, what was I thinking?"


	23. Chapter 22: Windfalls

_**22: Windfalls are Right**_

"_Or…more like godsends?" -Drana

* * *

-----  
_

"Strokes of luck. Think the Planet is on our side instead of watching from the sidelines?"

"... it's a maybe."

A good tiding brought the not-quite-a-crew farther than they'd first hoped to go. From Nibelheim to mid-flight on the way to Costa del Sol, Tifa and Vincent received their much anticipated call from Reeve with news regarding Saristis Noah. Before Cid even had time to land the plane for fuel and a break, he was bound for Junon. From the cockpit, he cracked curses but knew as well as anyone that there wasn't any real turning back now.

Sephiroth continued to measure the general quiet filling the cabin and the small asides the others occasionally cast. Things were happening too slowly for his liking. The unseen clock ticked away, checking off each second, minute and hour that he didn't have his precious treasure. He inwardly dreamt of his anger taking on a will and flesh of its own and ripping all things asunder in its path. Comfortably, he thought, _It wouldn't save Drana, but it would comfort me until we did._ _Someone should pay…_

Sephiroth recognized the bronze high-rise structures of Junon as they sped towards the plane on the horizon and floated beneath them as they prepared for landing. The last time he'd been here, this city from his military youth bygone didn't even register in his memory save for a few sour fragments about Hojo, Shinra and petty insurgences. Now, he recalled the filthy, past glory that was Junon. The buildings were pretty much the same; only the old flags and banners celebrating the achievements of the mega-corporation had been removed.

Headquarters now stood as a mere shell of its former self, occupied by a growing little bug known as the WRO.

So little had changed on the surface but under, it had been as if the Shinra Weapons Manufacturing and Electric Power Company had never existed. Good riddance. Sephiroth thanked humanity for turning against its unloved industrial tyrant.

_My problem had been rivals in the past. Shinra was still alive, kicking, and getting in my way. Even with their idiotic president gone. But now… Oh but sadly now, there's this WRO. Never rest for the wicked._

"Ah…"

The plane bounced upon the landing strip along Junon's upper cliff face, but Sephiroth, stunned by his own thoughts, didn't think to notice. He had a revelation. Since his true bodily death, he'd never pondered world domination again as he did just then. For so long, he'd been spellbound by seclusion with his one true prize. He was breathless, knowing that he had a bond with the Planet no one else would ever come to experience, likely making him the most powerful man on earth and, by acknowledging that, hadn't bothered laying down an iron fist. _With the Planet already in my grasp, why bother with its people… They'll follow soon enough._

As the other passengers began to file out of the plane, Sephiroth sat wondering whether he should keep relishing in the power he reigned or stressing over its potential loss.

Thinking, he suddenly felt weary. It took too much brainpower to muse about power. How to get it, wield it, keep it, maintain it. Most was worthwhile but…

"This is our stop. Or we can go without you."

"Drana's mine," he hailed. Past his upper eyelids he saw the frown settling on the face of the black haired man.

"Then get a move on."

--

"Didn't I tell you that I answer to no one?" Sephiroth said stubbornly.

"You want to get Drana back or don't you?"

"Without her, I am through being secretive. Take me to her now and I won't slice off your arms for trying to tell me what to do."

Tifa and Cid stood away from the indomitable Vincent, their bodies each an expression of disgust at its finest. The woman tapped her boot endlessly, while the rugged pilot huffed on his cigarette without tire. Watching the display take place between the two men was more than sad, especially when the other was already a perfect monster. And the other was just a man now, not quite an equal anymore. It was like watching a child trying to reason with a beast the size of a truck.

But Vincent knew ways of needling and eventually, he'd hit a sweet spot with Sephiroth.

The confounded man refused to walk undercover now. He wanted only to be taken straight to his goal. With that crooked black wing oozing out of his shoulder, he stuck out like a sore thumb and would likely alert any of Saristis's lackeys of suspicious characters about town. Namely him. The gunman desired at least some sort of jump on the wily bunch of scientists before they started brandishing big guns. Like another summon.

"Now... why do I feel like Drana? Tifa, Cid, let's go," Vincent said, shrugging his shoulders and sidestepping Sephiroth for the elevator behind him. Donning similar faces of dismissal, his companions sidled their way in after him. "I'd hate to see you running around Junon like a stray, rabid dog, but if you can't get with the program... I'm getting Drana back myself."

Sephiroth reached for the gate as it started to close. Gears screeched and sparks flew out of the shaft as the machinery strove against the resistance.

"After I allowed you to live, dead man, this is what you do?" he asked solemnly.

"You're no longer a general, so you can't order us anymore than we can order you," the gunman retorted casually.

"I'm one with the Planet now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tifa blurted out.

"You never told them about her?" Sephiroth asked with a telling tone.

Vincent faltered enough to make the lofty human hurdle smirk quite darkly. Yes, he admittedly never told the others more than what was absolutely necessary, which wasn't much at all. After all this time. He guiltily prided himself in knowing more than he willingly offered. But then, they never really pried. It was a point he could use in his defense.

Lucky for him, Tifa didn't direct an angry tone at the back of his head, asking why he didn't bother to share anything in full. Instead, Sephiroth replied, "Drana is the Planet, put simply for your simple minds. She and I are one. So I am reserved the right to order you around, wouldn't you think so? I am as near to your creator as you will ever be in life."

"What the hell?" the woman breathed in awe.

"What the fuck, more like it," Cid muttered in equal astonishment. Then he suddenly rose in annoyance, "Wait, don't tell me you think you're finally a fuckin' god over the rest of us, do ya? _Again_? Because I'm about to shit knives if you do."

"Vincent, that's not true, is it? About Drana? I mean, I know you said some odd things about her, like Lucrecia's spirit being inside her and her healing you but I never thought…" Vincent's head dropped at the sound of a stupefied Tifa and the sensation of her hand gripping his shoulder. Then he shook his head, trying to find the right words to better explain the matter while still walking the road of bare-bones.

"She's not the Planet. He's being too literal," he said. "We need to be focus on getting her back."

"But Vincent, Sephiroth could become a threat again-"

"We'll leave that up to Drana," the gunman asserted.

All three turned to face Sephiroth directly. His frighteningly smug expression had shattered. What little pieces he might have saved were reformed into stoicism. Vincent smirked secretly in triumph. If he could just keep drilling home the fact that there was or could be a power greater than him, he'd stay knocked down a peg. He hoped. _If you say or think something long enough, it'll come true. And... Maybe Drana IS the Planet. So…_

"Take me to her. Now."

"There's no stoppin' the pale bitch, huh?"

"Cid…"

"Sephiroth, surely you can bow to the simple demands of a human like me," Vincent said rather airily. "It would be in the best interests of us all, especially Drana's if... we managed a bit of discretion. Until we reached headquarters. It's only a few minutes away."

"... fine. You have this round, dead man."

Abruptly, Tifa's phone starting ringing off the hook, to which she reluctantly answered with a scowl. Having recognized the number, she said, "Reeve, what's up?"

"Monsters. In the city. Come quickly, we need backup."

"Or not," Tifa chimed to Vincent.

---

Unruly shadows bobbed about the streets and in between buildings while civilians scrambled to find safety. WRO troops marched uneasily, rifles raised and firing anything that cast a larger shadow than three humans combined. Bullets and the occasional laser flew but mostly missed their marks. A rare high-pitched squeal would pierce the air, but no injured beast would yet grace them with an appearance.

Vincent exited the old barracks turned flight tower and elevator complex, his rifle ready. Tifa slapped on some plated gloves while Cid pulled out a retractable spear and whipped it into extension. A lieutenant with a red beret awaited the trio alongside a quartet of soldiers, eyes and muzzles pointed to the sky. The rifle the man possessed himself jerked up at the sight of a leisurely Sephiroth entering the scene. Vincent motioned a hand for him to stay his weapon. Oddly enough, their unwelcome companion was going to be the least of their worries for the moment. They had a city to protect. Again.

"Unidentified monsters have been spotted all over town. One of my men said they're like nothing we've seen before. They just rose out of the ocean." The lieutenant was close to some form of hysterics, but Tifa lent a placating hand.

"Monsters," Sephiroth muttered quietly. "She must be nearby. Yes. If I focused, I could smell her, sense her…"

"Um, let's go while the creep hasn't gotten his creepiest just yet," Tifa remarked with a shifty glance in his direction.

"Shit yeah, let's go kill these sons of bitches," Cid proclaimed with a shake of his spear.

"Wait." The lieutenant gestured with a pair of fingers pressed to his left ear. He nodded to no one in particular then gazed up to Vincent and company. "News regarding the monsters. It seems they're converging upon the complex leading to headquarters. We've got to hurry and assist."

"Right."

In spite of everyone else, Sephiroth began to stray, a shroud of dreaminess overcoming him and leading him away down the streets. Overturning better judgments, the others motioned for the lieutenant to lead the way towards the monster epicenter.

On his own, he was liable for destruction, but one had to take a little solace in the fact that no harm or foul would arise if he decidedly took out a few monsters along the way.

With them gone, Sephiroth walked barefoot down the street, his nose to the air in hopes of catching a familiar scent. But he was rewarded only with odors of the city and that slight heady stench some monsters loved to give off. They were all around him. An attestation to some tragedy that had happened not long ago. _They've touched her. I have to find those rats and show them a lesson. A very bloody lesson…_

A slice of shadow slipped over his side, though it hardly startled him.

He turned slowly to witness something descending upon him. It was a thing of many eyes and hooked tentacles that billowed like a curtain even on still air. Sephiroth felt a pang of disgrace that he'd never seen these monsters before. But there was something else he detected aside from the primal instinct of a beast. A sense of will.

"Looking for her, are you? Well, you'll have to get through me."

The monster's kaleidoscopic eyes wobbled inside its flat body, a good enough response for him to accept. In counter-response, a slab of ice slipped through the beast's middle, unleashing a spray of blue. As if unaffected, it drooped right side down over Sephiroth, snapping its clawed tentacles his way. With both hands raised, he summoned to life a barrier of white light, deflecting them like bands of rubber.

"Bwaaargh!"

The unusual noise sounded off to his right, where a new thing stood, wounded but unfazed, made of tongues, massive multicolored claws, and a mean set of skeletal jaws. It slithered on tongue-like legs towards him, gnashing its teeth to a mechanical rhythm.

"Another cheerful face…"

The first monster had curtained Sephiroth's barrier, as though feeding off its energy. He dropped his hands and jumped backwards as the thing slapped into the concrete, shards of ice falling up then down onto its body. The second thing beast its tail of a tongue up and over which he caught with some effort. The jagged wing in Sephiroth's shoulder quivered at each creature's niggling presence, dividing his attention where he didn't want or need it divided.

Practically squatting on the tips of his toes, he pushed up on the heavy tongue and launched a foot square into its teeth. The monster bit back a dog-like yelp and tried snapping again but won another kick in its long, skull-like face.

"Tired," Sephiroth groaned beneath a sigh.

He slowly dropped to his knees, with the monsters around him fast recovering. He pressed a palm to his forehead, shaking softly, his body growing cold for but a second. The blackened wing rattled down to its very root, shaking off shards of dried ooze. The beasts let out a shrill cry like pained cries whistling about the air. Sephiroth gazed up, panting in quiet wonder.

The monsters turned and went, leaving him alone in the middle of the street.

"Mother... This is the best you can do? How lame of you, resorting to tricks, making me look weak. Are you jealous?" Smirking, he lifted a hand up to the departing monsters. "Burn like the sun."

Flares of near white-hot flame exploded out and charred sheets of flesh and tentacle went sailing across the sky, hitting the pavement in sick, wet plops and puffs of dark smoke. The handiwork garnered a deep, contented grin from Sephiroth as he worked to get upright under the frenzy of his rattling wing. He laughed, finding the appendage as rebellious as a teenager.

"Can you see how Mother's acting? It makes me so... sleepy. Her struggle…"

---

"Sir, I've come back with matches from the genetic database. But for some reason, they only come up as partials."

"Well, give it to me."

Saristis sat back in his chair as Evvey handed him a sheaf of papers. Within the observation room, there was little noise, save for the fawn-headed man's soles scuffing the linoleum. There was nothing he offered as to why he kept shifting in place on his feet. In the face of the blood test's results, this nervous tick was more than easily overlooked.

His hazy blue eyes widening, the redhead scholar adjusted his glasses and peered at the papers more closely. Then he shot a glance at his colleague, who returned it with no more than a shrug. Struggling not to babble, he asked, "Kit, are you sure this is right?"

"I double and triple checked, sir. Results presented no deviation in between. Surprising?"

"These partials… Entire families, however rudimentary they are. That thing harbors entire genetic trees," Saristis said, slapping himself on the cheek. He wasn't prepared for the final results, much as it was in his nature to expect even the rare and impossible. He rapped his fingers on the tabletop, tapped his foot vigorously beneath his chair, and gnawed on his lower lip for further good measure. Finally, he smiled a hesitant smile bracketed by awe. "And these are no coincidences. Lucrecia, identified with the very thing your theses postulate. But these others don't make sense. Hojo. Sephiroth. Gast. Ancient."

"You said so yourself, sir," Evvey intoned. "Families. We all knew the truth about Sephiroth. We all heard about Gast. They are progenitors and progeny."

"So... therein lay the bloodlines of members who'd been crucial to the superhuman projects of the past."

"Interesting correlation, sir."

"This little ring of esteemed and embittered scientists had woven together a web of fate more intricate than we'll ever know. Which somehow led to Meteorfall. Sort of a veritable... mindfuck, if you will." Saristis cackled, smacking the papers down on the table and rising from his seat. Evvey quickly came to stand at his side like an ever vigilant sentinel in a teenage body, reflexively preparing his notepad and pen.

"Sir, perhaps this confirms in yet another light that the general does indeed still exist out there."

"And that he'll be coming for us soon," the scholar added, stroking his chin. "I get chills just thinking about it. Oh but what if we could have captured him, too? I guess a dream like that is just _asking _for slaughter— Oh, but I can't help it."

"No harm in dreaming if it's only that, sir."

Saristis paced back and forth from the door to his chair, body hunched forward and hands clutched behind his back. Midway he stopped, gazing at the young scientist watching back through his goggle-glasses, his posture stiff and ready to jump through hoops for whatever action asked of him.

"What do we do now?"

Silence.

"... Oh, Kit, that reminds me. How did the biopsy go?"

"We managed to get a sample but under mildly difficult circumstances. The specimen is suddenly demonstrating a high-grade sensitivity that's a force to be reckoned with, even with anesthesia. In retrospect, we're surprised she even yielded to the blood test."

"So... just like the brain scan all over again, eh?"

* * *

---

For one so gloomy, she proved to be a rather sweet attendant, perhaps the sweetest I'd ever have. With shadowy hands silently gripping my bandaged arm, she stood by with few words but countless bows of her head. All the while, I furiously wished she would make herself whole, visible, something that didn't make my skin prickle every time I stared up into her dim abyss.

Lucrecia shook her head suddenly. "I don't understand. Where does all this pain come from? Why are you... so fragile all of a sudden?"

"I…" Of course I'd never understood it myself. I found it a shame, just as much as it was a shame never questioning it. Why did the Planet make me feel so vulnerable, so hurt, at times, while being sturdy as a mountain? Where was the sense in that? Would it be too late before I figured it out? How a simple ache could send me spinning into violent torrents without killing me? "Lu…"

"I've noticed. When they prick you with needles and slice you with knives and... use all these machines, you look like you're about to die. Is it... technology? Or..." Her shadow fingers splayed out against my arm, running them up and down its length. I wondered if she was going to find something hidden in my skin that I'd never known was there before. But her hands stopped on top of my slightly glowing bandages, finding nothing I could see. "What is it? Can you tell me?"

"... n…" My eyes fell half-closed upon the white walls in front of me.

"I was a scientist, too, you know. I could guess. Maybe... you just don't have much of an understanding about pain yet. Being with you, I've seen things. How you are with my son…"

My body suddenly went stiff under Lucrecia's ethereal touch. So the ghosts tucked away in my 'fragile' little body could see every facet of my life, every one of my actions, could they? It left me embarrassed knowing, or probably knowing, that unseen eyes were on me. Always. Worst of all in those moments Sephiroth took from me.

I felt, at least, that I should've been happy they never badgered me on the choices I made. Letting my eyes roll upward into the burning white spotlight above, I pondered. As Sephiroth failed to understand the strength of humanity, I failed to understand its frailty. What degrees there were, how I should react…

"... things are coming…" I murmured.

"Because you're hurt?"

I nodded. It was only ever that one explanation. I concluded that once this was all over, I'd sit down and talk, really talk to the Planet. So far I asked mostly the wrong things. Or I didn't ask enough of the right things. How I wondered if a lot of what happened until now could have been avoided if I only knew what was going on.

The orderlies made a move. Previously, they'd been still as statues, sitting on ugly brown stools against the wall. They were there all along, hearing me talk to what they must have assumed was nothing. Just me being a crazy person. But I wasn't. Lucrecia just didn't want to be seen, except by me, as the sad umbra that she was.

"I'm reporting to the boss," Number One said and vanished through a door like greased lightning.

Lucrecia's head turned, as if she wanted to follow the man, but she remained by my side with her head bowed. She whispered soundly, "I don't like this. I can just feel that bad things are going to happen. Can you sense him? It almost feels like he's near."

"Sephiroth... ?" I said, hopeful. If she was telling the truth, my salvation was close. I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn't feel him myself but just hearing that he might be nearby filled me with light.

I'd be going home soon.


	24. Chapter 23: Theoretical Race

_**23: Theoretical Race

* * *

**_

----

Vincent guarded one side of the underpass leading to WRO headquarters. Silently, he watched the closed off area opposite the giant elevator doors. Memory served him well; through that one area numerous complexes meandered below Junon, leading to the abandoned undersea reactor. Ever since Meteorfall and the gradual renouncement of reactors the world over, the area had been shut off from the rest of the city. Yet, still the rogue band of scientists had managed to rule it as their likely base of operations. Either they entered by sea or through an inside job. Either way, they were pegged as an attendant problem in Junon.

The catcalls of monsters echoed in the distance, some followed by sad screeches and gun and laser fire. Nearby lay the steaming corpses of newly dead beasts, and Tifa and Cid conversing with the lieutenant and an overly professional looking Reeve. He'd been pointing in the direction of the closed off passage. Plans were underway for reopening the path underground but apparently, there had been yet another matter delaying immediate action.

"Another voicemail," Reeve announced. "It seems we've got a militia to deal with, as well. Problem is we don't know where they are, much less who they are, especially on such short notice. Troops are divided all over town, hunting down monsters and our team here preparing to open the underground. I'm not sure if our current numbers are sufficient to fend them off should they come full force. You know what they say, divided we fall…"

"I wonder if it's a bluff, or a lie," Tifa remarked. "Should we really trust this mystery informant of yours, Reeve? Something's fishy. Been fishy for a long time now..."

Though no one was looking his way, Vincent nodded in agreement. These blessings of information that Reeve received were more than a little suspicious, no matter if they needed it or not. They clung blindly, all gathered there in Junon, expecting to find Saristis Noah holed up beneath the city. In a way, it felt all too easy to be true. Just a few steps away from his goal. But…

"I don't like this anymore than you do, but it's worth a shot," the commissioner said, lightly planting a fist into his palm. "And I have a city to keep safe, so I'll be prepared for any and all threats."

"That reminds me," Tifa uttered, turning to Vincent as she thumbed her chin. "... where's Sephiroth? I don't think we should have left him alone. Situation might have changed but... he's still just another monster."

The gunman tried to pull on words for assurance, but even he felt uneasy. He knew better than to just run off and leave the man wandering about, unleashed and hungry for blood. Thankfully shielded by his cape, his body sunk in shame of his carelessness. To get swept up in the moment the way he did. He had more control than that. _Or had that been as just a Chaos-infused rag doll?_

"Our goal remains the same. He'll show up. With any luck."

"Luck, as usual, is right," the woman huffed. She twisted around towards Reeve with a shrug of her small shoulders. "So, when do we start this operation?"

"When the number of monsters in town has subsided and I'm able to call some troops back to watch for opposing forces."

"I hope that's soon because I'm almost itching for a fight."

* * *

----

"Sar, I think you should hear this, I'm almost in stitches," Aridale tittered, entering the quiet lab in which Saristis was hard at work on the computers stationed about him. He glanced up at the woman and carefully smiled before turning his eyes back to the multiple monitors. The woman scholar jabbed a phone over the station into his face, her own face creased in amusement. "There's activity topside. I think our location has been compromised, and so quickly, too. I'm just hysterical. You'd think we were covert enough."

"Really?" he said, his voice distant. "Hmm. That is a problem. I'd hate to pack up and leave when we just got here but... Do we have a choice?"

"Should I alert the personnel?"

"Please do," Saristis said, feigning distress. "I didn't actually think we'd have to use our hired muscle, but they have to stretch their legs sooner or later."

He rose from his chair, tapped a few more keys at this computer and that one, then marched over to the printer at the end of one side of the station. He leaned against its separate table, watching each sheet of paper file out in steady succession. Aridale minced over to her superior's side, arms folded and lips still grinning while waiting for him to look up.

"So, where do we go from here?" she asked.

"Choices seem rather few and far in between, don't they?" he said in all thoughtfulness. "We could go and send some people ahead to Midgar and dig out one of the old labs there."

"And in the meantime… ?" Aridale cocked her head questioningly.

"We'll just have to hide out. Have everyone pack up what they can and ready the sub. We'll have to move fast. We don't know how long we have until this place is breached."

His colleague tossed her head back and giggled vibrantly for a woman in her forties. She kept firm control over her awfully normal bosom, leaning haphazard on Saristis before regaining her composure. She ignored his dubious smirk, leaving his side to head for the door.

"I knew Shinra wasn't the safest company to work with but this is too much," she sang, wiping at her eyes. "I'm getting chills. If I weren't the calm and collected career woman I am, who knows... You might be getting some, Sar. You know, in the face of danger and all that."

"Jenna, you know-"

"Business first. Yes, yes, yes, but a girl can have her fantasies."

"Hmm. Call Kit and Alex in, won't you?"

* * *

----

"All right, I haven't got word yet on the monster infestation but I can't wait any longer," Reeve said, tapping his loafered foot impatiently. "Let's open up the passageway. Tifa, Vincent, Cid, are you ready?"

"Shit, open the door already," Cid barked, shaking his spear at the commissioner. "No time like the present."

Reeve gestured for a pair of soldiers to approach the sealed portal. One carried a blowtorch and the other an apparatus that looked like a giant vice grip. The blowtorcher slapped a square metal mask over his face and lit up with a smaller torch before starting to work. He eased around the door with the slight blue flame, cutting through metal bars that extended out over it, screwed threefold into the surrounding wall. Once he completed his painstaking job, the one with the giant vice grip moved into place, lifting it high onto the circular lock still screwed tightly within the door. Heaving it over the centerpiece, pushing and twisting until clicks were heard, the youth started twisting the grip counterclockwise. The lock spun out of the door more and more until it was loose enough to nearly fall on the poor boy. The blowtorcher and the lieutenant both helped move the heavy piece of metal out of the way in rhythmic grunts and heaves.

"Obviously, these guys don't use the front door," Tifa noted.

"Then they had to have come in through the reactor," Reeve muttered to no one in particular. "I think we should hurry."

With the door pulled open in a peal of wails from un-oiled hinges and metal on concrete, the WRO lieutenant shouldered his weapon and peered warily into the darkened shaft ahead of him. His hard face looked back, and he nodded decisively after a moment.

"The way's clear."

"Someone give me a gun," Reeve said. Hesitantly, a flanking soldier handed him an assault rifle. For one that looked as humble as he, the gun seemed like a burden. But, in fact, he held it quite effortlessly. Back when he was a Shinra official, it had been part of the training, handling firearms. Dangerous jobs always called for dangerous measures. And the WRO was simply no different.

The passageway was mostly dark, save for an irregular light flickering weakly on auxiliary power supplied by the city. With the reactor dead, this place was as much a waste of space as any useless thing. Cobwebs decorated the ceiling and blocked old doorways to rooms that once stood for ground level security. Dark, ominous elevators stood with their doors gaping halfway. Mold, damp, and dust hung on the air like beads fit for choking.

Vincent and the lieutenant led the way, followed closely by Tifa, Reeve, and Cid, backed by several WRO youths. Not a sound indicated life in the passageway beyond the group, other than the squeaks of vermin. Of course they were still on the first level. They all had a ways to go to be sure if anyone was actually here or not.

"The last time we were down here, this place was going crazy with Shinra and SOLDIER everywhere," Tifa voiced softly, her eyes arcing ever so slightly above her companions' heads. "Now, it's as if nothing ever happened…"

"Better left to the past," Vincent said, resting the barrel of his gun against his shoulder.

"Shit, I'm glad SOLDIER's gone. Buncha freaks," Cid spat, snatching a cigarette from the box tucked in the strap of the goggles on his head.

"Cid, don't say that, Cloud used to... Oh no, wait. Um, never mind." Tifa giggled nervously and cleared her throat.

"A bad time for jokes," Vincent hissed from the head of the group.

The dimly lit silhouette of a stairwell beckoned them from a corner at the corridor's end. There was no other way down with the elevators out of commission, so Vincent and the lieutenant stalked about the stairwell before signaling that it was safe. The two men descended first, guns pointed cautiously over the railing.

"Wait," Vincent whispered sharply.

"What, do you hear something?"

"Yes." The gunman glanced up to Reeve who was uncomfortably sandwiched between Tifa and his soldiers. "Backup's coming?"

"Let me find out." Reeve slipped his gun under his arm and pulled his phone out, punching a number and muttering quietly to whoever answered after half a ring.

"I can't tell how many are down there. Maybe these are the militiamen... Shit."

"What's wrong?"

"Hey!"

A sudden stream of laser fire sprang up through the stairwell, hitting the ceiling and causing dust and sparks to rain down. Alarmed, everyone but Vincent who crouched low on the stairs like a black and red ghost, leapt back, preparing for combat. Amused that the men below shot first and asked questions later, the gunman loaded some materia into the chamber of his rifle and shot a volley of yellow light down the stairwell.

Cries of surprise rose and fell below, followed by shouts of anger and thundering footfalls coming up towards them. Uncertain of the opposition's numbers, the group fell back to the entrance for any advantage they could muster.

"What'd you shoot at 'em, Vince?" Cid cried in their mad dash back for the outside.

"Just a hint of confusion."

"That oughta buy us some time to get ready for 'em."

----

Lucrecia timidly retreated as the orderlies tied and wrapped me up snug on a gurney. The little blond-haired man and his twitchy twig of a counterpart oversaw their actions, also gathering up binders, tools, and so on into boxes. It was obvious we were all getting ready to move. _But where to?_ I thought curiously. Then, fuming out of fear, I struggled with my restraints. I couldn't leave yet, not with Sephiroth still searching for me. He was so near, yet so far, I just knew it.

"Calm down, woman," said Number Two, binding my ankles by strapping a piece of padded leather over them.

"Let me go," I gasped. "You can't keep me like this!"

"Sorry, orders are orders."

Gruff looking men with weapons slung over their backs and around their waists came and went from the lab, towing the boxes away on dollies. For each one I anxiously gazed at, shot back were soft glints of a weird light in their eyes. What was it? Curiosity? Pity? Fear? Tied securely to this gurney, I had all the time in the world to think. But I didn't want the time.

Lucrecia shook her head. Her soft voice came slow and worrisome. "There's something happening up above. It's not Sephiroth but... I'm sorry, Drana."

"Lucrecia, I think it's time you really proved your worth," said another.

My entire body brightened at the sound of Aerith's voice coming out of nowhere. Then rapidly fading into existence, she stepped to my side, hands cupping my shoulder. Glowing as usual in her pink dress, her oval face showed eerie determination. The umbra besides us began to pale in comparison to the great ghost herself. Lucrecia took a step back, wisps of gray swirling about her in sheepishness.

"You... What do you mean?"

"I mean, lend a helping hand," Aerith chimed. "Our friend here needs us. Sure, we can't do much like this but we still manage to exist this way for a reason."

"I…"

"What I'm about to ask may seem radical but... I think it's time you walked a little with your son."

Lucrecia's umbra wobbled and visibly shrank. "I, I…couldn't. Not without Drana."

"She's with us all. You don't have to worry. And it'd help get her out of this mess. The sooner, the better. You've got to give to get a little, right?"

Lucrecia's shadowy center started to spin like a mini-whirlpool. Her head fell forward, as if to see her own churning was a surprise in itself. Steadily, she retreated farther away from us, until her back touched the wall besides the open door where bodies were still shuttling in and out with boxes. The umbra bobbed her head once then melted through the wall. Gone.

* * *

--

_From Sixth: I need...a lot of things._


	25. Chapter 24: No Finish Line

_**24: But there's No Finish Line**_

"_No, it's only where we make it."

* * *

-----  
_

Gunfire flew from the mouth of the passageway, sparking on the surrounding metal alongside wild splashes of fire. Militiamen whooped and howled as they sprayed the entire area with heavy salvos, giving the WRO little freedom in returning the favors. Pushed off to the sides of the underpass against the street rails, they crouched, struggling for a shot in edgewise.

"Vincent," Tifa cried over the blasts, "did you see how many guys there were?"

"There's only five," the gunman called back.

"What? Then what's with all this heavy ass fire?" Cid barked. "I thought we were just up against a small fuckin' army, not a few automatic tanks!"

"They're better equipped than we thought under Noah's payroll," Reeve uttered against his shouldered weapon. "But, still, something isn't right."

"Where's our backup?"

"On their way!"

Vincent bent down on one knee, slipping a tiny blue orb of materia into his gun before cocking the chamber shut. He ducked lower towards the ground, almost sliding the nose of his gun along the asphalt beneath the unrelenting fire. Peeking around the edge of the wall, the gunman spied the men towards the front of the passage, shooting everything with all their blind might. Vincent grimaced at their abandon. Like all infernos, he knew they'd blow out sooner or later. But he preferred sooner. Time was wasting.

"Ridiculous," he breathed.

Where he aimed his gun, a frail shadow of nothing floated out of the shaft and vanished before Vincent could even lend a thought to what it might have been. With urgency pressing on his fingers, he pulled the trigger, launching a wave of swirling starry yellow light into the passageway. A fitting swell of frenzied cries burst out, letting him know he'd hit his mark. But it wasn't before long that the shaft belched a giant fireball into the underpass.

"Get back!" Vincent screamed.

The fireball had only fallen short, fizzling out on the pavement like a dying fish. Taking advantage of the brief ceasefire, Tifa, Cid, and WRO alike scrambled to tackle the militiamen before they could start again. Vincent and Reeve brought up the rear, mostly watching out for the reinforcements that were en route to their location. Behind them, dazed grunts and flashes of light shot out and about.

"Vincent... is that who I think it is?" Reeve asked warily, pointing down the south side of town.

"That's... not backup," he said, his tone dark and grave.

"They're coming up the north side, actually."

The gunman narrowed his eyes suspiciously against the figure approaching them at leisure. It was Sephiroth, there was little doubt, but he moved erratically on his feet. Peering behind him and back, Vincent hesitated. Whatever state the man was in now since being left at the terminal, he knew he'd only more likely be a hindrance than help. _But…_ An unusually devious thought came to mind. Vincent backed up to Reeve's side and leaned close.

"I have an idea," he told the other.

"You do?"

"Sephiroth can clear the way if there's more of those men down inside the complex," he explained.

"We don't want too much bloodshed, though," Reeve hedged. "Just disarm them."

"With that much firepower, they mean business. It doesn't matter what Noah ordered them, they want us dead. So, fight fire with fire."

The WRO commissioner grumbled halfheartedly, but warmed up to the idea. Vincent nodded back, then turned to Sephiroth who was now only a couple of yards away, most of his upper body drawn close about his disfigured arm. Abruptly, he looked up and smirked at the gunman, but it wasn't the usual sinister smirk he seemed to enjoy giving. It was just a wooden mask, which felt infinitely more unnerving than the former.

Finally close enough to be heard, Sephiroth intoned, "Where is she?"

"Down there," Vincent said, nodding his head in the shaft's direction.

Silently, he looked in the given direction then slowly back to Vincent. His feline eyes went scornfully narrow as he turned on his bare heels and headed inside. The gunman took one step in his wake, but decided not to follow, not just yet. He knew the solemn Sephiroth would probably have a wicked conniption if he was seen openly following him on his 'one-man mission'. No, as was the plan, he'd allow him time to clear any militiamen lying in wait, then swoop in for the kill.

Tifa, Cid, and the WRO troops made a hasty little retreat when they saw him coming, with Cid throwing useless curses to the air like confetti.

Reeve shook his head, sighing, "I hope this idea doesn't backfire on us."

"Right now, he's the only one that can clear them out faster than we can because... well, he's not going to hold back."

"Sounds bad when you say it."

-

"Drana." He strode past the fallen bodies at the entrance, not even batting an eye at them as they tried to get back on their feet only to be subdued by WRO once again. He raised his nose, not smelling anything in particular. But his pace never slowed as he descended to the next level, where his eyes and nose finally sank towards the floor. Below were rooms. Mostly abandoned yet lived in at the same time.

He knew these rooms. In the closing stretch of the Wutai war, he'd watched Shinra build this place from the sea floor on up. And prior to the construction of the undersea reactor, this section of Junon was just another bunker to hold the company's many and beloved secret stores. Sephiroth inwardly scoffed; it was to these stores, these labs, that he was always destined in the days he'd been marginally loyal to Shinra as then colonel, commander and general. The urge to evaporate the entire complex welled in his chest. But there was no choice but to refrain, just until he got what he came for.

"'ey, we got company!" someone shouted.

Sephiroth stared thoughtfully at his feet, at how nowadays they often moved him places he didn't realize were new until something reached out and grabbed his attention. This new level was brighter than the other, more suffused with electricity and, plainly, life. Hostile life. Men with guns stood in his way, as gritty as old unassailable stone walls, but fortunately not as solid.

"Who are you, Mr. Hot-stuff?"

"Where's Drana?" asked Sephiroth.

"Who wants to know?"

"You're in the way." With an upward thrust of his hand, the floor beneath the men's feet spiked, shoving them up into the ceiling. And at the drop of a hand, they plunged through the hole in the floor. "Hmm."

Sounds of alarm echoed from beneath the soles of his feet.

"She feels... close. If you're there, this is the last time you will ever get away from me."

Sephiroth knelt by the hole, watching the broken men twitch amongst the debris. A few frail bodies in white lab coats swarmed around the mess, distraught by the ceiling's cave-in. One happened to look up, spying him there, and by a single word they all scattered like frightened bugs the next instant. Sephiroth hopped down to the next floor, landing not so perfect in the wake of their escape. His wing rattled, furiously knocking his body off-kilter. Something it didn't like was near.

Something it _hated _was near.

Reacting to this hatred, the ooze spiked out of Sephiroth's arm, crystallizing hard as rock nails on his skin. He winced but continued down the hall after the fleeing lab coats.

Clouds appeared along the way, colorful fogs he never saw until now. They swirled all around him, black and red, yellow, blue, purple, even white. Individually they meant nothing, but together…

He groaned, "Where are you?"

With the people around him either long gone or unconscious, the halls fell as quiet as a tomb. There was no sign of the ringleader and his cronies, which left his patience tried. Sephiroth soon broke into a hurried stride, as if he should have been doing so in the first place. With all this desertion, Sephiroth felt a pang of shock. All the rats were likely jumping ship. Meaning, his chance was slipping away to trap this vermin king.

The concrete walls had gotten whiter and brighter, doors more unassuming but at the same time labeled by silver plates, doors which rarely opened but for a weasly little lab coat to pop out and try to make their escape. Sephiroth watched them run ahead to the end of the hall and disappear down the stairs. Whether he was after them or not, he'd catch up to them sooner than later.

"Drana!" he barked.

"Uhh!" came a reply from the fragile figure suddenly thrust at him, literally bouncing off his chest and falling to the floor. The small man scrambled to his feet, his hand trembling and glowing darkly red between the fingers. His salt and pepper hair was a wild, scraggly mop, but his sad gray eyes were wilder with fear, like a cornered beast.

Suspicious of the man, Sephiroth narrowed his green eyes, readily bent his knees in alert, all the while trying not to yield to the pain in his arm as the wing gored his flesh with spikes. He knew now what it was afraid of. This man. He had materia with him, worst of all, summon materia. Mother despised the stubborn, damnable spirits. With good reason.

Now his chance was lost.

The materia shone bright red and a blast of blue-white light covered everything in front of him. The gracious figure of a cold-faced woman flashed briefly before dying away, replaced by a crackling force above and below him. Sephiroth's feet swung out from beneath him, snapping his face to the floor with a sharp thud.

A slow and shameful curtain fell over his still conscious eyes, blotting out the sheet of thorny ice spreading across the floor and the man vanishing over his fallen body_. _He hoped this blow to his pride would be brief; otherwise, his oncoming dream was going to be a sore one._  
_

--

Vincent didn't like the way things were looking after descending two more levels of the complex. There were fewer militiamen lying around than he would've liked, meaning this was barely the brunt of their forces that they, or rather Sephiroth, had faced. Still, it was a fair number. If they all had to face them again, the militia would be a little less of a whole force, at the very least. But for now, Vincent and crew had to secure the area and hope they weren't too late.

Halfway down the fourth level, a chill of tomblike cold shot through the halls, whipping and howling through his jet black hair then dying away. This familiar chill unnerved him. It meant one thing but also another. He couldn't decide until he saw it with his own eyes. But either way it wasn't going to be good. The gunman, in spite of his apprehension, quickened down the hall ahead of his cohorts, rifle clutched in one hand and its barrel tucked into the crook of his arm.

Soon, the walls began to sparkle, misting over with a sort of permafrost. Ice blanketed everything, as if something forcibly shoved a glacier through the corridor. But it wasn't that. Sadly, it wasn't that at all. Towards the end of the corridor, the ice tapered in to a point, with frosty spears interlocking so thickly amongst themselves that nothing was visible beyond them. Blocked. But between them was a deep red stain and a body mangled at their feet.

The pale skin and sweep of gray hair spilling across the icy floor nearly threw him off balance.

"Drana?" he called softly, frowning. But he knew better. The hair was a shade darker, the body, bigger. Of course it wasn't…

It was Sephiroth. Relief washed over Vincent, followed sharply by caution. He hadn't been attacked by the usual floe. It was something much stronger. A summon. Naturally. The gunman found a dark, ironic humor in the fact that Sephiroth had been downed by the very same thing that Vincent, himself, had earlier managed to survive. He wanted to jump to the conclusion that the man was dead, having been impaled on ice like this, something no mortal man would have survived. But…

"Vincent!"

"What happened here?"

Finally, his companions caught up with him, sans the WRO who were mostly likely mopping up the militiamen. But not taking care in their steps, Cid, Tifa, and Reeve all slipped and tripped over themselves on the ice slowly creeping up the hall.

"What the hell?!" Cid exclaimed. "Argh, my ass!"

"Watch your step," Vincent said, even knowing he was late in delivering the warning.

"Vincent, is that..." Reeve's voice trailed off behind him when he nodded, not looking back.

"I'd still be careful," he told them offhandedly.

"Yes... be careful."

Vincent dropped to one knee, clutching his gun and fighting the urge to shoot.

He watched Sephiroth's previously limp body stir to life. Painfully so, he twisted his body up, blood and ooze trickling down the spikes of ice the more movements he made. The gunman winced at the sight. With all the fighting and atrocities he'd seen in his own life, he felt a little ashamed to have reacted in such a way just then. He beheld the bloodied Sephiroth manage to pull his limbs from the ice spears and drop to his hands and knees. The dark wing quivered sickly on his shoulder all the while, a nervous entity completely separate from the one it was attached to. But the gray-haired man himself was mostly silent, coughing and panting under muted breaths.

He'd then lifted a hand up.

The gunman took a step back. That hand looked pleading enough but he obliged not to get any closer.

A calm, green well of light formed around Sephiroth, lifting his hair off his shoulders. What Vincent reckoned to be Lifestream shot ribbons up, through, and all around his body, mending wounds and turning ooze to dust, but leaving all the shed blood behind. Sephiroth then rose to his feet, facing the jagged wall of ice fill the end of the hall.

"Hmm…" Vincent holstered his gun, sighing in defeat. Ahead lied the way to the undersea reactor, but with this ice wall blocking the path, it would take long, too long, to break through. And that kind of time they didn't have.

Their chance was lost.

"We didn't make it. Not even Sephiroth…"

"So, Drana's gone?" Tifa said in disappointment as she picked herself up off the floor. "That's not good, is it... ?"

"No, it's not," Vincent muttered.

"You were there..." Sephiroth approached the bloody spears on which he'd been impaled. The gunman spied him clench a fist and raise it against the ice. He bent down and struck it forcefully, chunks flying off into the left wall. Then he struck others, practically plowing through it all, clearing a haphazard path that tore open his feet which healed soon thereafter. But even with his strength, his progress was too slow for comfort. Vincent sighed again and heaved his shoulders at the spectacle, then turned around to Reeve.

Gathering breath, he announced, "While the hall is being cleared, we should case the area entirely. Whether Noah has gotten away yet or not, we can control what comes in, out, or is still around in the meantime. We'll find something or nothing at all."

"And here we thought we were on top of things…" Tifa slouched sullenly against Cid for a little warmth while watching Sephiroth smash through the ice with determination they surely found scary.

Vincent sighed one more time. That glimmer of hope had always been the hardest to keep. Deep down, he was almost certain he'd make it in time to make his boldest rescue. It didn't matter that they had relied on a most seedy bit of faceless information that had more chance of being false than not. As long as it led him somewhere, someplace close. But now that someplace was flying out of reach again. Lost behind a wall of ice. And it would take another windfall for him, for them, to get back on track.

"Drana…" Vincent said soundlessly, staring at Sephiroth cut like a bloodsoaked machine through his task. It was no surprise that whatever pain he suffered trying to break down the ice was hidden so well. As something even remotely human in the past, he'd been renowned for his persistence even in the face of injury. This gruesome scene was no less different. Now, infused with enough Lifestream to kill maybe scores of people, he was nearly an unstoppable force. _He's _docile _now but… _The gunman frowned.

Somehow, it felt like things were only going to get worse before they got better. As always. With Sephiroth and Shinra thrown into the mix, there'd be no escape while events ran their dreaded course. With Sephiroth and Shinra, the future was at the same time a fate unpredictable yet fated disaster. Vincent disliked this realization. Once was enough.

An explosion of fire resounded behind him, the gunman nearly knocked flat on his face from the rush of hot air down the corridor. He ducked within the confines of his cape, twisting slightly to the side to see what had just happened. In the glare of the dying red and white hot flame, he saw Sephiroth with his arms raised before him. He spun to the other side to spy Tifa, Cid, and Reeve awkwardly defending each other, huddled like children.

With the fire now gone, Vincent saw that only a small hole managed to open in the ice wall. Sephiroth toiled with trying to get through, using his fists to chip away just enough extra room for his thorny wing. Then he quickly vanished inside. Seeing an opportunity for himself, Vincent leapt to his feet and dove right in, landing on his stomach on the other side. He reached for his holster, but his fingers clutched only air.

"Vincent!"

"I'll be back," he called.

--

Sephiroth glided down the hall on bloody footprints. He felt clearly that the end of the complex and the beginning of the path to the undersea reactor was near. His wing remained silent all the while, having endured the worst of the previous assault. But he hoped now that it would react to something, anything at all. Outside the familiarity for this place, he could sense nothing else, not even the still healing pains in his body.

"Close..."

Abruptly, a pair of lab coats struggling with boxes collided with his slender block of a body. His pace hardly slowed as papers fluttered down about him. With these random bodies still rushing about, it looked clear that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance. That, or they were left behind and trying to get out on foot while they still could. But like the humans he loathed, he hoped for the better. He hoped that this wild chase would be over and he could go back home with his one, lasting possession, away from Shinra, away from anyone else who'd take what mattered to him, his strength, his godhood, away from everyone and everything.

Back to an existence he didn't think could sustain him until only recently.

Before then, it hadn't even been a real life he ever thought one could live.

His body ran on autopilot into the depths while he continued to hope, brood, plot, and seethe in one cycle after the other. It wasn't long before the white halls morphed into a long glass tunnel framed by dark metal and gigantic pipes. Deep ocean loomed overhead and to each side, hiding glowing silhouettes with prying eyes that floated in its pitch waters.

As he neared the end of his path, Sephiroth heard the busy noises of machinery, clanks, booms, groans. With everything running on no less than auxiliary power, he knew it couldn't be the reactor processing Mako and pumping it out for use. It was something else. Pushing through the heavy doors to the dormant core room, he was now certain. He could feel the stagnant death of Lifestream clinging to the walls. Beyond that, he picked up the vibrations of something large.

The open doorway ahead gaped upon a great big room lined with contraptions built for maintenance and water travel. In the middle of the floor sat a bubbling hole of water, alongside it signs of recent activity. Sephiroth rushed to the edge of the pool, spying lights grow dim the further they traveled underwater.

"Sephiroth!" a voice shouted, just as his body hit the water.


	26. Chapter 25: What Will Come

_**25: What Will Come**_

"_If you do your best... to be who you want to be…"

* * *

-----  
_

"Damnable Planet. Damn you..."

"Sephiroth…"

A waterlogged Sephiroth sat at the edge of the small dock, eyes practically boring whirlpools into the water. He ignored Vincent as the gunman cautiously stood some feet away. Sighing in a wave of defeat rivaling his own anger, he rotated from the now calm pool and flopped onto his stomach on the cold, concrete floor. The wing at the lofty man's shoulder seemed to go limp, as though relieved at this turn of events.

Water dribbled out of his pale bluish mouth in streams. This marked the second time Sephiroth had been 'killed' by a summoned spirit lying in wait for him. If not for his strength, the water would've torn him limb from limb, and unlike his other injuries, dismemberment took longer to heal, and sloppily at that. He coughed and panted if only to pressure the water from his body. The liquid in his lungs pulsed with annoyance, as though ten pound weights made of gel bobbed inside them.

Taking a deep breath and spitting out a bubble of water onto the floor, he whispered, "This isn't good, dead man. She was supposed to have been mine again by now…"

"This isn't good for anyone," Vincent said, dropping his chin low against his chest. "If she truly is what you think and want her to be, and they keep up what they're doing to her... then we might have another crisis on our hands. Of what proportions, I can't assume."

"I just need her back. The world can go to hell for all I care. With her, I can just rebuild it, perhaps the way it's meant to be." Sephiroth smirked, sitting back straight and wiping the acrid water from his chin. He got to his feet, feeling the heavy wetness mold his hair and pants to his skin. He groaned, surprised by the pinch of chagrin at his face. Surviving being drowned by a summon was nowhere near a triumph. Failing to catch the damned scientists counted as even less. "Mother, you drag me down…"

Vincent sighed, "I'm going to see if someone can get an I.D. on that craft while it's still in Junon's waters."

* * *

-----

---

"I've never hit a dead end like this before," Vincent said, morose. "We lose track of something, we're right back on top in no time. What makes this any different? Is our luck running out?"

"I think we used it all up in Meteorfall," Tifa answered.

"Hmm…"

"I wonder what Sephiroth's doing. I'm surprised he's left you alone after losing those Shinra scientists."

"He's out there."

Two ungodly weeks had passed since Noah and his group fled into the depths of the sea, leaving a darkly dissatisfied Sephiroth who vanished a day later; an equally unsociable Vincent; a flustered WRO dealing with random monster strains popping up on the main and eastern continents, wreaking havoc; and lastly, a befuddled Tifa who had no idea how to deal with the situation. Unhappy with the current standpoint of things, they both retired to Edge for a bit of recuperation.

Tifa reopened Seventh Heaven in the meantime, to keep herself busy while they awaited any news on Noah's whereabouts. The mercenaries and abandoned personnel Reeve had accosted were little to no help in the matter. They were either all belligerent as doorbulls or so detached and tightlipped about what they knew that they might as well have been lobotomized. This left everyone at little more than a loss but purpose remained. The uncertain, underlying gravity managed just enough to make them want to stay on their toes.

Vincent rapped his fingers on the glass of Corel bourbon he nursed at the counter. He stared into the amber-colored liquid and sighed deeply. He considered having a drink a guilty pleasure not indulged in since his days as a Turk. But he needed it. Stress was getting to him. He didn't want to wait anymore.

"I can't help but feel worried," Tifa said, butting in on his thoughts. "Like, and I know it doesn't sound like the most humane thing, but... the man needs a leash. Without that woman, he's... crazier. And I think that's only putting it lightly."

"If he's done anything, Reeve would've contacted us," he replied.

"Murder can go unreported, too, you know."

"Sephiroth boasts little to no discretion. So I doubt it."

"Let's just agree to disagree," the woman grumbled, snatching up a towel to wipe at some mugs. Then she quickly sat them down again. "I'm going to go check on the kids at Johnny's and then look for Barret. If you wanna come, now's the time. If you're staying in, lock the door behind me, won't you? Can't have the daytime drunks wandering in just yet."

"I'm staying."

"Well, then, don't get too lonely," Tifa said in a smile. "I'll be back after a while."

She wiggled her fingers goodbye at the man, then casually strolled out the front doors. Vincent got up behind her and spun the locks home, then returned to his stool at the counter.

The musty air of alcohol and sharp odor of citrus-scented disinfectant muddled up his smaller thoughts clustered around the large ones. He squinted up at the shadowy interior of the empty daytime bar and glowered. What was there to do? Edge was enjoying its albeit shabby prosperity, yet to be hit by the mysterious rash of monsters. Nothing to fight here, nothing to protect. For now, for just that moment, he'd sit and drink.

"I'm sorry," Vincent murmured softly to his drink. "We'll find you soon, we'll get you back."

* * *

----

No one came for Alexander Quelin.

He understood that very well.

That was the consequence he reluctantly accepted in agreeing to slow down the opposition for the greater good. He made this sacrifice in being caught. So that Saristis could harness the power of the Planet and make a better world for humanity in its blood. And hopefully, in the process, he'd get cured of his Mako poisoned state.

It was all he ever wanted, ever since he was a kid.

He knew Mideel wasn't a very safe place to live in. It was peaceful but it wasn't safe. People knew that yet continued to live there, mindful of the fact that the entire town could fall into the Lifestream at any moment, but treasuring their lives away from war nonetheless. He understood that, too. But when he fell into an unexpected pit that opened in the back of town, that understanding, that reality, warped. No matter where he lived, nothing seemed peaceful anymore. It was only pain. And in his home, especially, the pain nearly drove him to death.

As Quelin sat in a holding cell at WRO headquarters, the past was all he could ponder. In Junon, the pain was thankfully at its least, with most of the Lifestream driven away to the very limits of the city. It was to here a decade and a half ago that he had been shipped away, for treatment and eventually for use. Thanks to Shinra doctors, he was almost no better off than he was now. He was still stuck in his bodily prison, but at least he could hear people talking again, though he could barely answer.

Sitting there, Quelin mulled over Saristis' promise. It wasn't really a promise, but he had nothing else to hope for, nothing else to cling to. He was declared a lost cause. He'd been left alone to die whatever death would take him. Until Saristis' intervention. Under the guidance of the red-haired scholar, he felt he had a chance. But, in being caught now…

"Momma…"


	27. Chapter 26: Sephiroth's Day

_**26: Sephiroth's Slightly Insane Day**_

"... _it's a better companion than none…"

* * *

-----  
_

Sephiroth felt rings spin under his eyes the days and nights he wouldn't sleep nor eat. He found funny that his body wasn't as carved into eternity as he thought, that his skin could ever show the dawnings of bad health. But then he knew that for someone as powerful as he, the bad health was only in his head. Forever was with him; it just wasn't showing at the moment. Instead, humanity sparked in his eyes, no longer feline except when anger spurred him.

He paced and reclined in the garden patch, tempted to crush the flowers yet decidedly finding very little, but just enough, restraint against it. A spare few had already begun to wilt while left to their own devices; others started to grow wild. Occasionally, Sephiroth threw a spray of water over them, but other than that, watched them either grow free or sow rack and ruin on themselves. The mini-chaos was a nice diversion. And he enjoyed feeling the bugs and dirt cling heavily to his tangled hair as that slightest affinity to the purest of nature.

But as these two weeks dragged on, even watching the garden began to lose its flair.

He contemplated Mother, Jenova. The infectious thing in his right arm was hard at work making it its home. The wing had spread further down his limb, up his neck and halfway across his chest, gnarling and spiking the skin into something ugly. Up until now, Sephiroth had let her run rampant in his body. Although he cursed her for wanting a piece of him after his falling from grace, for now she'd have her way. But, in time, he'd take care of her. For her failing to get him the real power he'd always desired and now owned.

Soon, he'd take care of everything.

"But I can't," he finally said to himself after prolonged silence. "Or I won't? That woman would be mad. If I cared. Yet…"

He sat up amongst the flowers, huffing at the stiffness of his disfigured arm and its silent sighs at his glaring. He ran his fingers over the calloused flesh, snapped a thumb on the thorns growing distinctly from the smoothest curves.

"Why am I showing restraint? I could raze entire lands, and unearth her eventually. But she would be mad. Or she would be sad. Ha. The human emotion in her is so irritating..." With the claws steadily growing on his right hand, Sephiroth casually pawed at the dirt, sensing how soft it was between his thick padded fingers. He frowned then clenched a fist, listening to the pop of his horned knuckles. "Are you really what the Planet would be like as a person? A meek woman, of all things? Gaia…?

"I don't like talking to you," he grumbled decisively to himself. "I don't need to talk, just act. No thinking, just conquering."

_This won't do…_

"Drana?" Sephiroth jumped instantly to his feet at the frail, distant voice. His eyes turned to angry, feline slits as they darted to and fro. But he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just the garden, the house he refused to sleep in, the plains as they stretched out into the distance.

_Why me? Why do I keep doing wrong… ?_

"Hmm. You aren't…" He snorted and awkwardly folded his arms in one another. "... you're one of her ghosts? Or one of mine?"

Silence.

"What do you want?" he questioned snidely. Then all arrogance drained from his face and voice, replaced by quiet urgency. "Wait. If you _are _one of her ghosts, you might know where she is. You'd certainly be more useful than everyone else if you did."

More silence.

"Talk!" he barked with knifelike sharpness.

A small shadow appeared at his feet, kneeling low amongst the flowers. Sephiroth's eyes fluttered down cautiously to the umbra, his brow furrowed in just a hint of surprise. It was indeed a spirit of some sort, weak and faded. Cowardly. His Jenova-infested arm fell slack at his side for a moment, then reached down for the shadow.

"I'm sorry... I'd been with you all this time, but... never said a thing…"

"Your voice. Who are you?" he demanded.

"Just a shadow... Still failing you and Drana."

"Tell me where she is. Now."

The shadow shifted then darkened. As it gathered shape, Sephiroth found himself more wary than he knew he should have been. While the wing on his arm gave no warning that something it found adverse was near, he himself tensed at the umbra's presence. He unthinkingly despised it. And then he remembered that natural hate he had once felt and who or what instilled it in him. He splayed his claws out, his face burning.

"What are you doing here? Wretched bitch."

"Yes, curse me," the shadow nodded. "I deserve it for my crimes, always. But now, for now, that will be the past. This is the present and... I have to see you to her."

"You must take me for a fool if you think you will ever be my-"

"Listen, please. For Drana's sake." The shadow rose to its own feet, the top of its hazy head coming to just below his eyes. As it began to lift its arms, Sephiroth stepped back out of reach, bearing a terrible mask of disgust. The woman shadow shivered dejectedly, but still took a step closer. "Can... can you despise me that much that you won't hear me out? Knowing I could be the key to finding Drana?"

"Spit it out," he said, and then warned, "but come no closer."

"W-well…"

"And if you've been with me all this time, why didn't you tell me sooner?" he hissed. "Making me suffer... I could have had her already."

"I'm sorry," moaned the shadow.

"Not good enough!"

"Listen to me," it pleaded, no more raising its voice than Sephiroth did. A nervous whirlpool appeared in the shadow's middle with a flimsy gray eye. "Listen... How can you act like this right now with Drana at stake? She, she's most likely at Meteorfall's ground zero. It's been... some time, yes, but-"

"Ground zero?"

"Midgar."

"Yes… Midgar. Midgar." Sephiroth fell silent, feeling the tension suddenly pool and drain out of the soles of his feet. He flopped down hard onto the ground, crushing a few flowers beneath him, and uprooting others as he drew in his legs to cross them. He frowned at the thought of the ruined metropolis. That had essentially been the site of his second coming, though not too ideal a place because of the remnants of Holy and Meteor sleeping there. Thinking about it made his skin crawl threefold and his wing bicker skittishly on his shoulder. The clash of energy there had been an utter pain to break through, but oddly something Sephiroth had forgotten until now. Like a pang of birth.

"Please, Sephiroth. Can't we… ?"

"Shut up," he said languidly. "So, hiding out in Midgar. Hiding... but we'll get you. Oh, and, Mother? If you live that long, maybe you'll get one last taste of human flesh."

"... Sephiroth…"

"She'll need it on her deathbed. For, if someone fails me then they should be dead. If not already, then by my hand or anyone else's. But a parting gift wouldn't hurt, for all the fun times we've had…" A long hush descended over him and the garden. Sephiroth held his breath, his eyes roaming over the hands settled in his lap, one human and one not. He abruptly laughed, belting out his bated breath, and then grunted lowly as he rose up.

That house sat before him, almost as sinister as he himself on occasion. It wasn't a good sinister. The lonely little structure seemed to bloom alienation. If things couldn't go back to the way they were just weeks ago, then he wanted nothing to do with it anymore. It would just be a failed attempt at life, one he could do without being reminded of no matter how far he went from it. And with that in mind, Sephiroth frowned as darkly as a storm cloud.

"If Drana doesn't come back with me this time, then this is goodbye."

"... Sephiroth?" Turning more than a little apprehensive, the shadow approached Sephiroth's back. Its body glowed in a brighter haze than ever. "You-"

"Simple as that," he interjected.

"I-I don't…"

* * *

----

"Hey, Tifa, did you hear? There's something going down in Midgar."

"So you're the one who's been stealing all the gossip from my bar…" The woman sneered playfully at her fellow bartender, all the while cradling a bottle of beer she'd barely taken a sip from. "Well then, what's the scoop, Johnny?"

"Salvage teams are coming back with stories of meadows out in the middle of trashed plates," he said, shakily cocking his spiky red head to one side. "More monsters, too. Scrap business is gonna blow for a while. Think you can call in the WRO for a hand?"

"Wait, meadows? I don't understand." Tifa's big brown eyes grew bigger in cluelessness. Johnny smiled a nervous smile then bent over the countertop towards her. She got a whiff of his strong cologne that smelled like flowers, something he obviously seemed to think would lure in the women if he wore it enough.

"Meadows. Y'know, like grass and flowers, the whole shebang. Now, I've been in Midgar almost my whole life, barring Nibelheim. Took a little vacay, but… Never seen anything quite like that. Ever. Oh, and pictures don't count."

"Heh... um…" Finding herself more astonished than liked, Tifa leaned back on her stool, slapped her hands on her thighs and sighed. Most Midgar citizens would have answered in nearly the same way Johnny did. So used to the polluted comfort of the slums and the legendary cities on the plates above them, these people would have been content with the fact that they would never see what green earth was like in real life, lest they ever left the city itself. And with the generally cushy lives Shinra threw at them— if it wasn't the clean, efficient comfort of a good house and well paying job, it was the albeit shady protection of the city's military and high-built walls— then blissful ignorance abounded and the desire to get out was quashed. That had generally been the way of old Midgar. But now…

"Speechless, Tif?" Johnny voiced, knocking twice on the countertop. "Don't I know it. Never thought I'd see that happening, not in a million years. Hey, maybe the Lifestream's returned to Midgar? That's what AVALANCHE always wanted, right?"

"Well," she began, "it's only been a few years since Meteorfall. I think it'd take the Planet longer than that to heal up the damage Midgar caused to the area, much less make anything grow. It's got to be something else…"

"Whatever it is, it's freaking me out, man. But I say more power to it. Except for the monsters. Screw the bitches, am I right?"

Tifa's brow furrowed in deliberation. She gripped her beer hard enough to almost make it shatter before she realized what she was doing. This sort of phenomenon was likely what the WRO needed to continue Vincent's grand search for the Shinra lab coats. She sharply waved Johnny closer. "I think I left my phone back at Seventh Heaven. Can I borrow yours, Johnny?"

"... that was hot, Tifa. Go ahead."

"…"

* * *

----

"I should dress for the occasion, shouldn't I? Should I not look good for Drana's return to me, just this once? I'll show her how much only I matter."

After having ignored hygiene for as long as he had, Sephiroth finally relented to a much needed shower. He stayed in until the water ran ice cold, then stepped out, slicking his hair back as he stood staring into the mirror above the sink. The sad shadow of Lucrecia floated in the doorway, watching him move in such a way that he almost seemed to slither. He was now full of life for the wrong reasons. Yet, as long as it returned everyone to their rightful places, it wouldn't be helped.

"Mm... I wonder if you still would've had this body if Jenova never existed here… Your father wasn't exactly a handsome man..."

"Quiet," he spat, then went back to staring at himself. The wing and its slow transformation of his body were blatant now more than ever. It fortunately oozed less but no ugliness was lost. Bright blue veins crept down his belly, like bulging wire pushed under his skin. Sephiroth had never took much stock in his own looks but now, on the verge of becoming alien, he couldn't help but realize a few things. "Thus the urge to dress up, hm?"

He'd have to ruin some clothes in order to be able to wear them. This wing of his was an utter obstacle, an eyesore. If he tried to rip it off, Mother would only grow a new one. He'd learned his lesson when it first appeared. She planned on staying in his body as permanently as she could.

"Perhaps something regal," uttered Sephiroth. "I am one with the Planet, after all."

"Sephiroth, this foolishness… But you'll never listen to me."

He took yet another minute to study his face. Jenova's influence crept along the right edge of his jaw. But that had been the least of his scrutiny. His eyes. His eyes were in a constant state of flux between human and slit. If he didn't need them, Sephiroth could have pulled them right out of his own head. Suddenly disappointed in his appearance, he groaned, "This is what I've become? Because of Mother, because of Drana? Torn between powers like this. I feel so crucial for some reason... wouldn't you agree, ghost?"

"Jenova is a parasite. How could she ever care? Drana's the one that matters…"

"For once, I will concede agreement. Mother's fallen too far from grace for redemption. Drana's been snatched from her pedestal. I have to get her back before she's tarnished beyond repair. And we can't have that." Sephiroth frowned then hung his mouth open, letting his tapered tongue trace lines over his bottom lip from one corner to the other. For one split second, he could taste the countless sips of Lifestream he'd taken. Every ounce of that life energy that came to mind made him shiver. Sharply, he pushed himself away from the mirror, back pressed to the door. "Mnh…"

"Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth glared angrily at the ghost, more for nearly embarrassing himself than it speaking his name. Thinking about that Lifestream always stoked a secret fire. But to act on it in front of a measly apparition? He had more dignity than that.

"I want to be alone," he growled, then shut the bathroom door.

"How disturbing…"


	28. Chapter 27: Around the Bend

_**27: Around the Bend and up The Alley

* * *

**_

----

"That is indeed our esteemed general," Saristis said, fairly distressed.

"With as ripped and toned a human body as ever, might I add," Aridale inserted with blatant intrigue. She watched her superior pull out a pen and tap it on the blown-up image tacked to the blackboard on the wall. The woman sported her favorite playful smirk, but eventually turned to study the image as seriously as the other when she saw it went ignored.

"That's a rather curious growth, isn't it? Maybe he's not so human after all."

"Maybe he still has Jenova with him," she offered. "You know, the body was never recovered from the Crater. The WRO may say it was wiped out but…"

"Sephiroth _and _Jenova, together again?" Saristis voiced in visible awe. "Things officially look grim."

"I think," Aridale began, with a finger pressed to her lips, "that we're done running tests. Let's start applying our knowledge and getting firsthand results."

The redhead scholar scowled gravely, with success making his colleague falter. He turned askance to the digital image of Sephiroth as a still-life general wandering purposely below Junon. Saristis couldn't believe how close they came to physically incurring his wrath. If he hadn't all the resources he did, hadn't been cunning enough to actually plan some steps ahead of time… Game over, of course.

Aridale's suggestion was suddenly sounding more agreeable.

"Much as I hate to jump into it so soon..." He groaned and stepped back from the image. "We're going to need some major firepower to take down Sephiroth when he comes."

"You sure he'll get us this time? I mean not even the WRO have, yet."

"Haha," Saristis chuckled thoughtfully, lifting two fingers towards the ceiling. "One of their major bases is right in Edge. Someone's going to notice activity here— case in point, the 'green marvel' outside. Though I can't say that's our doing... I hope Kit's looking into that. BUT, let's hope we're so deep underground that that will buy us some time."

"The odds are unbelievable," the woman huffed in annoyance. "Will he, won't he? Will they, won't they? Humph."

"Alright, enough idle chatter-"

"Idle?"

"-I'm going to check in on our prized specimen."

-

I never knew that lying idle for so long would feel so uneasy. It was like waiting for nothing in a wakeful coma. Except for the littlest things, my whole body was just a single, weird buzz. I yearned for sun, yearned for fresh air, wanted to run through fields. I wanted to go home. If only I knew my own… Right now, I thought, I would be home tending to my garden, suffering, enjoying, tolerating Sephiroth's presence whenever it was necessary. It was a risky kind of lifestyle, but better than this. It had to be better than this.

How could prison in a tube be so frightening? And lonely? Lucrecia was gone and Aerith was like a busy bee, going in and out, which I thought kind of strange for a ghost. But I needed the company of someone or something familiar, to soothe my fears. That redhead doctor Saristis and his lab coat brigade also came and gone, doing shady things I could barely see. Sometimes they drew in a rough looking man or two, and after that I'd never see them again. Then, I'd be knocked unconscious from the machines pulling the life out of me.

A distinct heartbreak bore in a trap like this, my being as nothing more than someone's pet science project. And then, not even that. I was just something to waste away in a tube now. I began to wonder that, if I ever got out of this, would I wind up loathing people of science as much as Sephiroth did? Would I long to see them dead? Would I even try to kill one with my own hands if I ever saw them?

I didn't want to hate them for what they'd done to me.

But emotion didn't always work the way it was supposed to.

Sephiroth himself was testament to that.

For this one instant, I let my eyes flutter against the soft green glare on the glass above me. The leaked Lifestream cried and fought to get out. But it was no use. This tube was sealed airtight, and the oxygen I probably didn't need but felt secure breathing anyways was supplied through a mask strapped to my face. Each breath tasted processed and acidic like alcohol, which made my mouth feel like it was full of drugged cotton.

I sighed sadly and rolled my eyes up again, though there wasn't much more to see than the same green glare and part of the tube's solid metal frame. I was so tired that even this inaction fell short of driving me crazy enough to struggle like the Lifestream did. Buzz, buzzing.

If this wasn't the most miserable life I could ever, ever live…

-

"Well, it's barely responsive at the moment, but it's still alive," Saristis said with a shrug. "That's good enough for me."

"She's not as feisty as she used to be," Aridale voiced, cocking her head towards the large iron door. It had once been access to an infirmary, though with frills fit more for a Mako treatment facility; but now the rusty door stood painted with red bars across it as a high level security marker. Only Saristis and his entourage had the keys and clearance to get in. The lady scholar didn't really see much need to make this room stand out from the rest, but some things could not be helped.

"Hm."

"I mean, that high-grade sensitivity she supposedly developed in the beginning seems to have vanished, completely," she continued.

"Or rather, we stopped doing whatever appeared to be aggravating that sensitivity," Saristis told her but won only a shrug in response. He turned to lean against the wall, but decided not to for fear of getting his coat dirty. Rubble still lined the halls, and dust and cobwebs drifted everywhere. A dull orange light was all the half-ruined lab could muster in the largely lifeless city of Midgar. Yet, everyone could safely admit that this rat hole was safer and more discreet than nothing at all.

The redhead scholar pulled his glasses off and vigorously rubbed down the lenses with his sleeve. Sighing, he muttered, "How's Anton doing with our volunteers to the Lifestream showers?"

"They're getting rowdy," Aridale explained, "but any changes have yet to truly present themselves."

"Hmm."

"Worried?"

"I just don't want to see a bunch of Quelins running around, that's all," Saristis grumbled, sliding his glasses back onto his nose. "This is a very dangerous treatment and we won't know the results until they manifest. And it'll be too late, or, it'll be just right. Either way… Butterflies, butterflies."

Haste made waste. The pensive scientist regretted realizing this. This was basically how SOLDIER had been born. Although, this endeavor had more chance of succeeding in the long run without the key element, Jenova, driving them all mad. Saristis never did trust the alien parasite. He never understood the fuss that Hojo, Shinra, and even Professor Gast, put up about it. The Ancient angle didn't fool him for very long, either.

He'd sat out the Jenova Project. He was more interested in the vagaries of the Lifestream. And with his current accomplishment, he found himself quite proud. But to start down the path of making super soldiers just like Shinra had done made Saristis feel a bit derailed. This should have come later, if at all.

"Ah, over-thinking," The scholar cleared his throat then spun around on Aridale staring intently at him. His hazy blue eyes lit up, throwing the woman almost physically off-balance. "As usual, our work's cut out for us."

* * *

-----

"Your son's degenerated a little, huh?"

"A little bit... I wish I could help him, even if he doesn't want my help…"

"Oh, you're helping, don't worry. Once we get Drana back, things should start to look up."

"How is she?"

"Out of it."

"It's strange to see how much they seem to need each other now…"

"Well, they're bound together."

"Because that's how you asked the Planet to make them, right?"

"Sephiroth needed somebody to take care of him, since you were essentially... out of commission. He'd finally learn some humanity, she'd learn some reality. A nice mutual experience towards becoming whole people. But right now, I can only hope there'll be something left of the two when they reunite."

"Hope? You mean you're not sure?"

"Even an optimist can worry."


	29. Chapter 28: Opera Explosions

_**28: An Opera Needs Explosions

* * *

**_

-----

"So, Midgar. I haven't been here since she brought me back," Sephiroth said, grimacing. "Holy and Meteor are killing me…"

"You can feel them?"

"... of course I can," he sighed, shielding his eyes from the midday sun beaming down over Kalm's southern cliffs and hillocks. The town below appeared too vibrant to exist on the outskirts of Midgar's lowlands; the land hadn't even begun to recover from the lack of Lifestream in its soil, but this cozy setting still thrived. It was admirable, but not worth a thought beyond that little admiration. Kalm was meaningless in the end.

Sephiroth inhaled deeply, then whispered, "There's something else mingling with these energies. Could it be her…?"

"I'd heard that monsters and Lifestream were running rampant here..."

He snorted at the shadow standing far away from him, though the given statement sounded curious. And all too familiar. So, Meteorfall's ground zero was the right place after all. But with the air so thick from the remnant energies of Meteor, Holy, and even the Planet itself clashing and thrashing together, Jenova's influence on his body was growing. The bony wing, now melded deep into his right arm, cut growths like knives through the skin down his back. Where he'd walked or flown, little black-blue down fluttered in his wake. The sight shook him inward with laughter, that he'd gain wings and look more angelic than he wasn't. The clash of atrocity and, for lack of a better word, beauty made him feel like a total monster.

_If she could see me now…_

Grimacing once again, Sephiroth started down the hillside.

"Are you going to Kalm?" the umbra asked.

"No. Midgar," he chanted. "Midgar. She's waiting for me."

At the very bottom of the hill, his feet left the ground. And in a blaze of black cloth and tiny feathers, he was airborne, bound for the dead metropolis. The stranded shadow of Lucrecia bowed and shook its head, then sifted into the air, carried off on his wake.

* * *

----

Aerith's church sat undisturbed beneath its roof of shambles. Spare rays of grayed sunshine managed to beam down, giving it that forever holy air in a dirty, decadent land. The miracle building was empty, though on better days it saw fair traffic from friends visiting the area. Inside, it'd been all too clear that someone had come by earlier. Usually, signs gave away that someone being Cloud. Other times, it was just a random beast seeking shelter. The church haven didn't dare discriminate. All were welcome.

All included Vincent, of course, who didn't come there often.

He mourned Aerith's loss just like everyone else, but never attained that closeness Cloud and Tifa had shared with her before she died. So his visits were awkward. But he still meant well. Yet, he didn't come to pay his respects, not this time. Oddly enough, even to himself, he came to see the flowers.

What he'd heard from Tifa was true.

The flowers here were overgrowing from their solitary mound under the broken floorboards. Even long thin creepers, plants all too foreign to the eastern continent, were crawling up the barren altar and wall behind it. They almost seemed to sparkle with dew from nonexistent rain, brimming with so much life energy that it puzzled Vincent to the bone. This was highly unusual growth. A force was brewing in Midgar and the gunman had a few guesses as to what it might be.

"Hidden under our noses again?" he questioned the air.

He bent down on one knee at the edge of the wild flowerbed, plucking a red blossom from it. His sharp eyes concluded that it was just a regular flower, to which he frowned.

"It's impolite to spy," he said suddenly. "What are you doing here?"

"That's our business," a voice replied, chuckling. "What about you, Sir Dark-a-lot?"

The gunman exhaled tiredly, then rose up straight. Slowly he turned to face his unwelcome company, where the corner of his lips invisibly twitched in recognition. He was outnumbered, but he sensed no will to fight, so his rifle went untouched. Folding his arms in each other, his chin high, he voiced, "That's my business."

"We didn't want to intrude. We're just looking around."

"Tseng, right?" Vincent nodded in a somewhat noble manner.

"I'm honored you remember me," the solemn Turk answered, returning the nod with one of his own.

"Verdot's old protégé. You've been M.I.A. since the Temple of the Ancients."

"Can't die until I've truly made the old man proud."

"Why are you here?" Vincent queried, with almost a tone of regard.

"We're looking for some geeks hiding out up here," Reno said as he squatted next to Aerith's flowers.

"Geeks?"

"Yeah uh… Tell 'em, Elena," he coaxed hesitantly.

The young blonde sighed then stepped forward, slightly bowing. "We're... looking for some geeks. Just like Reno said."

"Sorry, haven't seen any." The gunman couldn't help but peer suspiciously at the dark and sharply dressed group. As a rule of thumb, the Turks only appeared when something major was going to go down. Could it have been possible that they were looking for Saristis Noah, too? That man was the closest thing to a 'geek' Vincent could think of. He was a doctor, after all. But why them?

"We're taking our leave," Tseng intoned with apology. "Guys, let's head out to old headquarters. Maybe we'll find something there."

"Gotcha." Reno rose to his feet, and then strode past Vincent with a huge grin on his face. "See ya, dark knight. Heh."

And then they were gone.

Vincent narrowed his eyes harshly at the entrance to the church.

"And the wings of fate drive me onward… My poetic line for the year."

-

The trek to Shinra HQ towering high over the remains of Midgar proved to be a harder task on foot than Vincent first surmised. With the Turks nowhere in sight, he presumed that they had to have had some sort of transportation to get by on, leaving the gunman wishing for very much the same. Scrap and mortar still had a tendency to fall without warning, so he stayed on exhaustive alert. As the WRO had surveyed, monsters were five gil a dozen, lurking in every other shadow Vincent came across. The peaceful side of the beasts lounged in patches of green growing amongst charred buildings. The violent side swarmed in his wake but a mean blast of materia always managed to keep them at bay.

Hours seemed to pass.

Vincent prided himself in being quick on his feet but it wasn't going to help him catch up to the Turks this time. He wasn't much of a bike rider, but that was starting to look good now.

Eventually, the gunman looked up to spy old neon signs topping mounds of homes and businesses. Particularly, shady businesses. The demolished strip malls that lined these small streets began to look shamefully familiar. With no lights to make everything bright as day, he could have missed it. But there was no mistaking.

This was the Sector 6 slums, Wall Market.

With Wall Market came the soothing fact that Shinra HQ wasn't far ahead, as when Vincent peered up, the tower was larger than it was the last time he'd viewed it. He took a deep breath, closed out the catcalls of monsters from his ears on the hollow air and continued onward. Meanwhile, a tiny, but lazy swell of memories nagged him. This once prodigal slum under the rule of late Shinra bedmate, Don Corneo, had never been a favorite haunt, but his chief and buddy in the Turks of old dragged him to the Honeybee Manor at any given or taken chance. Verdot was a fan of watching President Shinra act like a fool in his special plays. The young, uptight Turk Vincent Valentine needed loosening up, at the president's expense.

Good old days, bygone.

A humongous rounded wall lain where the Don's mansion had once been. Good riddance. Shinra HQ loomed through a hole in the ravaged city plate above. A few houses had slipped off the side of the hole, trapped in gigantic cables like dead flies in spiderwebs. A still rain of concrete and metal marked the path up the core of Midgar's heights.

That was going to be a hell of a climb.

* * *

----

"Oh damn it, where did Vincent go?" Tifa huffed. "He's not answering his phone."

"Vinny told me he was going to Aerith's church to see the flowers," said Marlene as she sat at the bar, scribbling on paper. Denzel sat beside her, taking turns with the girl when she handed over her pencil.

Tifa frowned, puffing at a stray lock of hair tickling her nose. After a moment of silence, she glanced down at her phone then dropped it on the countertop. She hated being left behind, but she knew that man didn't always play by the rules, even after all this time everyone spent together. He came like the wind, left like a breeze.

"With all these things happening, how can he just run off to Midgar like this?" she muttered to herself. "I thought he was looking for Drana. I, I wonder if I should go after him. But I can't leave you kids here alone. Not until Barret comes to get you."

"Hey, we can take care of ourselves," Denzel barked in defense.

Smiling, Tifa reached over and patted the boy on his puffy, brown-haired head. "You can never be too careful, little guy. I should know…"

"Then leave a note for Daddy and take us to the orphanage," Marlene offered. "We won't be alone there. And there's grown-ups, too."

"Hm…"

* * *

----

"... I'm never doing that again," Vincent grunted miserably, leaning against an upturned block of concrete. The hole behind him now seemed like a memory of the distant past, but the exhaustion stayed just as fresh. If he ever had to hike through Midgar again, even for the hell of it, nabbing a bike was going to be the first thing on his to-do list. But the worst of it now was over. At least, until some random disaster occurred.

"If it isn't the dead man... A displeasure seeing you here."

"Gods…" The gunman slumped onto the concrete slab, pulling his hair back over his shoulder. Here was another thing he wanted to leave in the distant past. Being called a dead man. Even less, the one who loved to call him that just to be annoying. "What brings you here, Sephiroth?"

"I've come for Drana," he answered, approaching Vincent from the rear. Both men raised their heads to stare each other down, surprise gripping but only one of them. The gunman flinched, almost compelled to draw his weapon. Yet he caught himself. They weren't total enemies now, but the Planet be damned if Sephiroth wasn't starting to look a little like the superfiend that caused Meteorfall again.

He didn't feel like setting off the volatile beast. Other matters pressed.

"So... she's here?"

"Look around you. Why not? The monsters, the green earth sprouting up everywhere." The man labored to lift his disfigured arm into the air, grasping at nothing. Beneath fibrous scales, the skin was blue, purple and oddly smooth looking. The wing that used to jut from his shoulder now sliced down the side of his arm in long sweeps of bone, flesh, and feathers. Inhaling deeply, Sephiroth added, "I'm ashamed I can't feel her. Oh the suffering she must be in..."

"No more than usual with you, right?" Vincent spat.

"Very funny, but I'm not laughing," the man uttered, stepping past the other. His human hand reached down to gather up his long, dark coat. It almost slipped the gunman's notice that Sephiroth's clothes weren't exactly the exemplar of military neatness right now. The right side had been torn beyond repair to give his arm more than enough breathing space and he secured what was left of the sleeve with buckles clipped to and from his other shoulder, where a single pauldron sat. Clearly, Sephiroth couldn't get over his singular fashion taste from his general days. But, it seemed like he'd taken a cue from Vincent and kept the collar buckled high around his mouth.

It didn't look right on him.

"Do not stare, it's impolite."

"I wasn't staring," the gunman shrugged. "... Dressed to kill?"

"Always."

"You think she'll care how you're dressed?"

"... she'll pout if I don't make a good impression," said Sephiroth with a smirk.

"You're beyond good impressions."

"I'm through talking." With an even broader smirk, he turned away from Vincent and started towards the howling skeleton of Shinra headquarters. He ascended the steps littered with holes and piles of scrap, oddly putting in effort not to fall. The gunman didn't dare move from his spot at the concrete slab, but quirked an eyebrow instead. _What a graceful general he isn't._

"Mm…" Vincent watched Sephiroth step up to the double doors of Shinra HQ. He seemed to freeze up suddenly at the naked frame, confusing the gunman. He ventured a step forward, half as curious as a child. What made him stop?

"What a... cute idea of a joke," Sephiroth said rather woodenly, tossing a piece of paper over his shoulder. A slight breeze caught and rolled it further down the steps, to where Vincent could safely snatch it up. He swiped the wad of paper and twisted away just as the other man made his way inside the building.

"... A joke, yes," he muttered.

-

_-SHE'S IN HERE.-_

The simply scrawled message left him a little less than disturbed. If left by the very people he pursued, he was obviously in for a trap. If not, then someone intended him or another to come here. In any case, Sephiroth wasn't happy about this little beginning of a game. But he was, however, elated at the devastation of Shinra HQ, as well as Midgar at large. The once shining staircases were, just as everything else was about town, devastated. It would take some definite fancy footwork to scale them, a guarantee for safety not included. But offers for a broken neck still stood.

Sephiroth shrugged thoughtfully. A broken neck was easily remedied but it'd waste valuable time that would be better spent finding the damnable doctor's lair. So he had to watch his step. With his steady advance up the steps came the acknowledgment of life nearby that wasn't Vincent Valentine's. It brimmed with fury that obviously had trouble being controlled. He looked up to the mezzanine that overlooked HQ's entrance. A fleeting figure had just escaped his animal gaze. Quietly clicking his tongue in alert, Sephiroth gathered up his coat again, bent his knees, and launched himself as high as he could towards the mezzanine.

"Ah," he grunted, his fingers catching on the rusty rails that moaned under his weight. The toes of his boots caught on the old, metal Shinra logo mounted just below him, its center shifting to one side when he began pushing himself up and over. By the time he was on his feet again, the figure had disappeared entirely. "Tricky, tricky…"

Now he had mystery creatures playing hide and seek with him. This was not going to be an enjoyable mission. But when and if he did catch them, Sephiroth planned on having a blast blowing them to absolute pieces.

"... please, Drana's the focus here. Not hunting and killing some miserable thing…"

"You." The man glowered faintly at being scolded. It distressed him that he had to keep his bloodlust in check. He wanted to kill these people who had taken his precious thing, even though the sentiments didn't sit well with his 'usual' female entourage. Heaving a careless shoulder, he muttered, "It's not as if you can stop me. In spite of your obvious, and thus meaningless, warning, I know where my priorities lie. I need her to get rid of Mother. I will deviate little, if not at all."

Sephiroth's keen eyebrows drooped begrudgingly on his forehead with, "You're an utter pain. How she could stand you, I'll never know."

"She understood..."

The man huffed in finality and continued deeper inside the demolished tower, soon entering the spacious lobby littered with debris and clouded over with stagnant dust. His eyes spied that numerous floors above had caved in on the center, crushing the one great tree that stood there. Dead branches lay scattered at the base of the enclosure but new growth crept out onto the floors and up towards the holes in the ceiling. Off to one side, half shattered light fixtures along the wall glowed dimly like stray ghosts.

Power was being supplied here, albeit very little. Someone was, now without a doubt, occupying the building. One question stood: Where were they?

Something caught his eye. He lo and beheld a yellow scrap of paper discarded on the floor, looking fresh against the backdrop of old destruction. Sephiroth approached it slowly and bent to see what message had been left behind this time.

_-UNDERGROUND'S WHERE IT'S AT.-_

Steadily, he crushed the paper in his hand and lit it on fire, his eyes kindled with irritation. Just as he rose to his feet and tossed the little ball of fire into nearby rubble, the shadow came to impede his path. Its arms were raised to stop him, making Sephiroth scoff with a shift from irritated to downcast eyes.

"Let me lead the way," it pleaded. "I can sense her. I'll be a lot faster than trying to figure out these notes. But they _are_ pointing in the right direction: We'll have to go below. Shinra's always had a... thing for burying their secrets underground. Like-"

The shadow of Lucrecia suddenly burst when a body lunged through it. Reflexively, Sephiroth threw himself against the assailant, sending it flying in a mist of calm greenish light. His arm screamed, cracking and arcing over his head before he managed to get it back under control. A crazed grin ran across his face under his limb's angry quiver. This power he knew.

"She _is _here. But…"

"Time to get your ass kicked, general!"


	30. Chapter 29: Love Weight in Corpses

_**29: Love Needs its Weight in Corpses

* * *

**_

-----

The men ignited with Lifestream just seemed to keep coming for more, trained solely on the brutal trespasser, Sephiroth, who deftly staved them off with no more than his fists and Ancient knowledge. But the rabid green mist would revive them like semi-mindless dolls with guns; lasers and bullets flew at random in their dizzy attempts to recover. No more overcome than a trapped beast, even with his mutated arm wanting to whip like a live wire, the gray-haired fighter stood more than a match for these abominations.

From his modest perch overlooking the battle, Vincent contemplated the unknown origins of these things. People like these did not just come out of thin air. Were they part of the rash of monsters that had taken to Midgar? Or were they people mutated by some power that made them walking torchlights and as hostile as wild Crimson Hounds? The gunman chuckled into his fist, a morose rumble as it rose from the back of his throat. These conditions matched those of SOLDIER who only partly succeeded in response to advanced Mako showers. They'd be strong, yes, but unable to control the Planet's energy inside their very un-Planetlike bodies. Ultimately, they'd become walking monster seeds.

Sephiroth had been the only true success in that regard. And as that sole success, he easily broke the energy's will to make the puppet men fight on and on. Vincent almost envied the fact that he couldn't quite compete anymore, ever since Chaos had been ousted. Once a man, always a man.

"Heh…"

"Don't think I can't see you there," Sephiroth shouted over the shoulder. "Drana's mine!"

The man dashed off shortly thereafter, followed by a discreet gray fog, a thing too curious to overlook. It felt peaceful at best, and that was why Vincent had to figure out why it trailed Sephiroth.

---

Sephiroth's arm throbbed. The eerie men's onslaught threw it into constant shock, tugging at his skin and sending raw bolts of pain through his chest. Just like his unexpected brush with the summons of ice and water back in Junon, Jenova reeled with a fear he would never understand in her. It'd been safe to assume that with her body and cells dispersed so far beyond a full reunion, she was weak as any common beast. But, as a parasite, she would be eternally stubborn for survival, which lent her enough strength to cling to Sephiroth's body.

A stab of shame pierced him from out of nowhere. A fear that he might not make it. A shy terror that he might lose everything, and Jenova would win over his strong mind and soul with her primitive ways. He wasn't used to worrying like this, or about it, so he fumed with natural hatred at Shinra to fight it off. But it lingered. _Until I get her back, I can't feel safe with Mother. Something's wrong with me._

The farther Sephiroth traveled into the bowels of Shinra HQ, the more the building and its foundation began to moan and howl. Gales raced through the empty halls frequently, tossing his hair to and fro and shifting Lucrecia's shadow as she hovered ahead of him. Neither had said a word since entering the lower floors of the building. The umbra stopped quite often to gather its bearings, a few ethereal whispers slipping out every now and then, then back to checking halls and doors like a dutiful hall warden. Meanwhile, Sephiroth noted more pieces of paper lying around, undoubtedly confirming that the path they took was correct.

"That stupid man is following us. I can't sense Drana, but him…"

"Vincent…"

"Ah yes," Sephiroth chimed. "So you're the miserable soul he's so taken with. That he would even try to take her from me to have you? I despise you even more."

The shadow whimpered lowly.

For a time, the halls donned that antiseptic whiteness beneath the dust and grime. The two had entered an experimental area but it quickly faded to industrial bronze and copper. Any light present went from dark gray to dirty auxiliary reds and yellows. The atmosphere looked as if that of a reactor's. It wouldn't have been far from the truth, of course. Despite Shinra's efforts in the past to keep their industrial secrets unseen, Sephiroth had learned of another reactor built beneath Midgar. The prototypal reactor that had elevated the city to its glory from infancy.

The reactor hadn't been covered up for its mere existence— that, Sephiroth knew— but something Shinra flawlessly achieved in erasing from all records. But what that was didn't matter now. The company was dead. Everything it stood for and safeguarded meant nothing to him anymore.

"I remember this place." Lucrecia's shadow slowed to a stop. "My research about the Lifestream began here…"

"So?" Sephiroth said rather indignantly.

"So, I didn't see until... It's kind of fitting that Saristis Noah would bring Drana here. Where I first postulated such things."

"Stop talking."

"Mm…"

* * *

----

A big, furry red mound reclined next to the wild flowerbed when Tifa entered Aerith's church. It was rare for the non-human, yet still flesh and blood member of their group to come so far from his home in Cosmo Canyon, slightly rarer to come to the church. As per a custom of his people, he could 'visit', or rather, honor her from elsewhere than at erected or designated memorials.

The fiery mound shifted at the sound of the woman's footsteps, then slowly rose to its haunches. A somber, ocher eye met Tifa's gaze.

"Nanaki, you nearly scared me, you know that?" she breathed. "We don't see you out here very often."

"Ah, well," a sly young voice began, "there are still duties to be preformed for my mate before our courtship is complete. Er... you know how that goes."

"Heh, how is, er... what's her name again?"

"Deneh. She's fine, so far as I'm told." The fiery red beast shrugged its tattooed shoulders then fully rose onto its long legs to approach Tifa, offering a soulful nod of greeting. "We're both very nervous, however."

"Well, it's for the good of your race so... Hang in there." She smiled and playfully patted Nanaki on his head of dark crimson mane. He dropped to his haunches once more, tossing a curious glance at the flowerbed he'd just been lounging next to. Tifa gathered herself on cue, inhaled deep, and said, "So you can see what's going on with Midgar…"

"It's a little hard not to," he replied softly. "The entire city appears to have gone crazy, in my humble opinion. As soon as I entered Midgar, a few monsters tried to make me lunch. I saw trees growing where there shouldn't be trees at all. Not yet."

"So, wait, why are you here?" Tifa asked.

"I came to visit Aerith's church, of course. And... see what all the fuss is about."

"Oh… Oh!" she exclaimed. "Did you see Vincent? He was supposed to be here, too, but…"

"I thought I smelled him around here. And Cloud, too. Recently. But no, I haven't seen either."

"Darn it, where could he have gone?" Tifa stepped to the side and walked towards the flowerbed spilling over with creepers. She gazed hard into the patch of red, yellow and blackish green, contemplating on all the places Vincent could have gone in this city. Nanaki came up beside her, his gold bracelets jingling, the tip of his tail casting a soft red glow, warming the backs of her shins.

"They weren't the only ones here, either," he added.

"Oh?"

"Turks."

"Turks?" the woman repeated in disbelief. She hadn't seen any of the Turks' faces since the days right before Meteorfall. She'd assumed they were dead, but finally knew better than to make that assumption when it came to Shinra. Like Reeve, virtually all of the higher-ups, and more, had been trained to survive. And they did. Until they got on Sephiroth and Jenova's bad side; not to mention, they opposed Cloud and his motley crew as the clincher.

What were the Turks doing in Midgar? Did they waylay Vincent for whatever ridiculous reason they could conjure? Tifa wondered and wondered.

"Oh... I know Reeve's busy but... Ah, I'm going for it, I'm calling him. If there's Turks here, then-"

"There's trouble?" Nanaki chimed in.

* * *

----

_Seph... th... Se…_

Sephiroth stopped suddenly on the grated walkway, which crossed directly over a giant of a bottomless vat that was the entire space below. It exuded the dullest blue-green glow, nearly drowning out Lucrecia's feeble shade and throwing dead shadows in every direction towards the equally abysmal ceiling. He peered straight up where weak red lights were clustered, doing very little to fight off the mass of darkness caught in between.

Shaken to the core, he gasped sharply. " It's her."

"Sephiroth?"

"It's felt like an eternity..." His eyes fluttered out of a swell of ecstasy, his heart beginning to drum crazily in his chest. "We must be close. Are we close?"

"I-I… Maybe. There are other experimental areas beyond this point."

"Mm," he seemed to moan in delight. "Hear that, Mother? Drana's near. Your little tirade will soon be over. But let's get you some real blood in the meantime. My consolation prize to you."

"Sephiroth... Focus on Drana. Remember? Please."

"Do not tell me what to do," rumbled Sephiroth. Steadily fighting off his drunken euphoria, he flexed his arm and back muscles, relishing the strain Jenova put on them. With slight pain burning on his skin, he could steel himself once again. It would fuel him onward. To stop now for a brief thought in bliss swore defeat. No, there was only triumph to be had.

"Why do I bother... but…" Lucrecia's shadow sighed in due exhaustion then raised a muddled hand towards the end of the grated path. A lonely door stood painted diagonally with black and yellow stripes, sporting a blank space where a red warning sign would have been situated. Unnerving as it was to think about, Sephiroth was sure it had fallen into the abyss below. Like he'd once done himself, in another place and time.

"Hmph."

"Look," the umbra begged. "Someone's nearby. It's not Vincent... Probably more of those, those things."

"Pity," Sephiroth pouted, tapping his chin. "They're lucky I didn't bring Masamune with me. You think I've been rough now? Oh... no."

"I wish... I'd realized in the past how much Shinra enjoyed making monsters from innocents… How I could have saved so many people... Myself. And you."

Sephiroth moved quickly to the door, grabbing its double handles then proceeding to haul it open. With screeches and pops, it surrendered easily to his strength. And from out of the doorway, the muzzle of a gun stabbed into his throat. The cold metal snout forced him back against the railing, led on by a young, twitching man dressed in fatigues.

"Well, well…"

"Don't think I'm, I'm ignorant of who _you_ are, zombie," he sputtered. "I got him!"

"Sayin' shit like that always jinxes the operation," spouted an angry voice from the corridor beyond. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Just c'mon already!"

"Children like you should really read up on whom to point guns at," Sephiroth whispered.

Just as he snapped up the muzzle of the gun in his hand, a crack and spray of fire burst out under his chin, followed by a spurt of blood. The anxious militiaman staggered back, gripping his weapon tight, only to be yanked into the corridor by his hidden companions.

Jolted briefly into solidarity, Lucrecia's milky skinned shadow retreated a few steps at the sight of the reeling, injured Sephiroth. His body bent far back over the railing, yet luckily not enough for him to fall. Instead he propelled himself forward and swung around the metal door into the hall where several men awaited with more than eager guns. Fire spilled out of his fist, his throat pumped a flimsy trickle of gore, and his eyes flashed hot with green light. His arm of Jenova abruptly popped out of place, whipped forward, shaving metal off the top of the doorway while almost seeming to take his whole body with it.

Lucrecia gazed down at her slim, transparent arms, then up at Sephiroth who ravaged the corridor full of men like a true beast. She fell soundlessly on her posterior, mortified at the sickening screams and thuds from what she couldn't or didn't want to see. And when a bloody, beaten body sailed from the hall right to her bare see-through feet, her firmly defined shape fell apart. At last, when Sephiroth stalked out of the starkly shadowed hallway, dragging the man who shot him in the throat by the face, she returned to her dark umbra.

"Now," Sephiroth rasped, spitting blood over the railing, "this is what happens when you shoot me. Goodbye."

A subtle fling of his arm sent the man flying into the abyss.

"See, ghost? I will not be stopped."

"You just can't live without getting blood on your hands, can you, Sephiroth?"

"You bite me, I bite back," he answered curtly. "Simple as that."

"Drana, help him…"

"Yes, Drana. Help me."


	31. Chapter 30: Have you ever

_**30: Have You Ever Seen Me?**_

"_Dream a little dream for me."

* * *

-----  
_

"Saristis! This is awful! How could we fail so quickly?! It makes no sense!"

"It makes perfect sense. You realize who we were up against, right? General Sephiroth. The legendary bloodhound of Shinra, powered by Jenova. Perfect sense. Really..."

"How can you squat there and just accept this?!"

"I'm not accepting anything. Our goal's been achieved."

"I'm calling bullshit, Sar. It'll mean nothing if we die here, nothing. Did you not see what happened on surveillance?"

"Sir, I'm afraid I must side with Emerson in this regard. Our militia's flopping. Against one man. Granted, we still have materia but if previous summoning hasn't stopped him then, will it stop him now? Unlikely. We're sitting ducks down here, sir. I propose we abandon everything and run while we still can. Perhaps, perhaps it's just that, all that Shinra does is destined to fail. And former employees are not exempt from that fate."

"Kit, I'm hurt. Yes, this was a fool's errand to begin with. But go across the hall; see what we've obtained, what we've done. We should hold on to that. With a little more time, we can become absolute masters of our fates. Promised Land, Neo Midgar, it could all be ours…"

"The Shinra dream."

"A very bloody dream."

"Blood, sweat, tears. To get it, we've got to give it. A fitting credo for our lifestyle, hm?"

--

_Aerith, I heard him. I heard him call back to me. So he's nearby. He's here and he's come for me. But…now what?_

I saw the cream-skinned woman standing in front of me, almost right under my chin. She looked skeptical above all else, her arms crossed, her eyes abnormally narrow. It was obvious she knew Sephiroth was coming. A ruckus rumbled above, no doubt he at his destructive best. Both sad and overjoyed, my body buzzed to life, a buzzing that actually moved me. But I could feel things holding me back, tearing my skin and terrorizing the Lifestream trapped with me.

"... mngh..."

I wanted to move. I had to move. But the pain was like death igniting a hundred times over and over again, deaths not my own, but excruciating all the same because they happened inside of me. Exaggeration or not, I felt like every fiber of my body was being torn away one by one. My eyes grew hot with the ache for tears but I felt nothing warm and wet streak down my cheeks. Only the coolness of Lifestream touched them.

Snap.

--

"Sephiroth! There's-"

"The Planet must have called something," uttered Sephiroth, kneeling low to the ground. His eyes darted up to the descending cloud of dust and debris shaken from the ceiling, then quickly brought them back down. "Something large."

"What do you think it-"

"I don't care. We're almost there, we can't stop now. Go." He glared intently at the shadow, urging it ahead.

An odd will clung to the air, bullying to pull Sephiroth off his endeavor. Jenova's shock still wrought havoc, but now, with this unexpected tug of energy, the parasite felt compelled to advance up and down his flesh. Hidden currents crackled just below the surface of his skin, begging to split it and grow something alien in its place. It was almost too much to bear now. His right eye didn't feel the same anymore. Streaks of old blood flooded his eyesight, disorienting him.

"Mother, you think you can... dominate me?" he groaned, then chuckled. "I can't…"

He plunged to his knees, panting and clutching his chest. Alarmed, Lucrecia's shadow knelt beside him, running a shifty arm along his. Sephiroth's eyes lulled upwards, growing uncomfortable as he gazed into its faceless head.

"Hang on for just a little while longer. I know you're strong. Maybe too strong but... Drana's just up ahead. She'll make it all better."

"Why are you trying to console me?" he demanded suspiciously.

"You know why, but you can't admit it. That's fine with me. But still... come on, get up."

Sephiroth's pauldron abruptly popped and cracked down the middle with the uprising of a bony thorn. He groaned lowly, his clawed hand moving to grasp his shoulder fired with pain. It became clear that Jenova knew her end was near, justifying the need to quicken her takeover. It saddened him to see one of former power like her reduced to such a low. Just like him.

He chuckled again, getting to his feet.

"Go back, ghost," warned Sephiroth. "I want to go to her on my own. And if you dare come with me, so help me, I'll find a way to destroy every last particle of you."

"But I-"

"For your own good, take me seriously." He stared at the shadow longingly, then the corner of his mouth curled into a lopsided grin. Without another word, he dragged onward down the lonesome hallway, carefully sidestepping fallen debris.

"... I guess I'll wait with Drana."

--

Vincent found himself tempted to go back outside and see what caused the tremors that nearly brought a whole floor down on him. But he was already in too deep to turn back now. Between keeping a safe distance behind Sephiroth and mopping up the weird glowing men who where still left moderately standing, he had a bit of a hard time maintaining his pace. They seemed to crawl out of the woodwork, gibbering, flailing and quickly changing into misshapen beasts right before his eyes.

_Drana's Spirit energy seems to work faster than normal, _he thought.

Unlike Sephiroth and his being powered almost directly by the Planet, the playing ground was plenty uneven for Vincent, but only without his saving grace, materia. Fire with fire, naturally. But it merely kept them at bay, rather than destroying them completely.

"They're not important," he told himself. "Just keep going."

--

The solitary image of a dormant cauldron sat in the middle of the corridor. Bells of confusion and alarm rang furiously in Sephiroth's body, but the confusion prevailed over everything else. Yes, it was a summon set up to impede his path, but the thing made no attempt to attack. He saw the red materia glowing as it was wedged into a crack in the wall, with a tiny device attached to it.

"Remote control…" He squinted at the apparition sitting there, debating on whether or not to just pass through, or destroy the materia. In subtle conclusion, Sephiroth raised his left arm, though with Jenova spreading ever more over his body, it stung terribly. "Let's see what you really are…"

A pinprick of light flashed from the tip of his index finger.

Shadows darker and larger than Lucrecia billowed up around the cauldron for a time before vanishing back into the hall's dim red light. This summon wasn't a normal one. Lowering his arm slowly, Sephiroth fell breathless. Jenova shrieked and bristled through his distorted limb, throwing him off-balance, and ultimately off guard, as well.

"Ungh!"

His hair swirled over his face as his legs flew up in front of him. Not even given any time to recover, his body twisted upside down in mid-air. Pressure wrapped around both his ankles and wrists, keeping his limbs spread wide apart.

"General Sephiroth, I'm surprised to see you hanging around," uttered a voice from somewhere up the hall.

"Jokes like that ask for your demise," Sephiroth hissed, struggling to get his coat out of his face.

"I know. Really, I wish Hojo taught you a sense of humor."

"No sense of humor can save you from me."

The voice made a sound of disapproval, then replied with, "Shinra should have made it a prerequisite for employees never to have families in the company. With you as the shining example. Lucrecia, Hojo, Gast, the Ancient, and a whole slew of others, even the president himself, as well. But I guess dysfunction is the spice of life.

"This is quintessentially our last stand. Well, before we make a run for it. I'm kind of tired of running, though."

"I'm tired of you running, as well," said a dismal Sephiroth. "Just give her to me and accept your deaths peacefully."

"Hades," murmured the voice.

Clouds of noxious color began to gather around Sephiroth, causing his coat and hair to billow calmly about him. At first, he smelled nothing but the mold and dust of the old corridor, but gradually, a stench like death and rotting filled his nostrils. Offering himself the benefit of the doubt, the pure Lifestream within would save him from whatever trick this summon was about to pull. If not, he was going to suffer a bit more than being drowned, impaled, or falling to a mindless disease.

"I'd like to keep that thing," the voice admitted softly. "For us painfully normal humans, it'll be our Neo Midgar. You see?"

"She's mine."

"Now it's ours. We find, we keep; you lose, you weep. Fair, right?"

Sephiroth finally caught a glimpse of his offender in the shadows. The smug faced scientist with the red hair, arms crossed and smirking as if he had the upper hand. He was a fair mirror of Hojo in his stance, which boiled his blood beyond reason. He hated to suffer humiliation at the hands of a weasly doctor, not again and not like this. He bade his time, bit his tongue, let the hate and anger fester.

"I dare you to hate me after this... Know that I was doing it to get you back."

He closed his eyes, though even in the darkness behind his lids, the toxic colors sickened and dizzied him. But it wouldn't be enough. He had more of the Planet on his side than did the summon itself. He would break free. And…

"I'll kill you."

"Oh?"

-

"Sephiroth... stop…"


	32. Chapter 31: Drana and Sephiroth

_**31: Drana and Sephiroth**_

"_So, Sephiroth, this is it? We'll live together, all the way out here? I've got to wonder… Is this how two people like us are supposed to end up? Considering everything that's happened… it doesn't feel normal. But we're not normal, are we? But… We're still people, right? Aerith believes in us. She thinks we can help each other. Or... more like, I can help you. I can help you live the way you deserve to live. Right, I think that's how it goes. So I have to stay, I have to stay to help you. Something else wants me here, too... I can't explain it. Like another person... so close to you. It's... her. We care; so we're staying."_

"_You're sickening. But. If you'll lead me to my Promised Land, I'll endure anything._

"_Although... I'm asking for hell on earth, aren't I? Hm."_

_

* * *

_

_-----_

"We're all fools!"

* * *

--

Vincent stopped dead when quakes broke out in the hall and a surge of energy literally made him and everything else around him hover off the floor. He kicked uselessly in the air, knocking and scattering debris ahead of him like dominoes. Grunting, he flicked his rifle out of the holster at his thigh but dropped it when gravity sent him crashing him back to the floor. Light rubble rained down on his back, then all was still again, save for the slow fall of dust.

"What the hell was that?" He snatched up his gun and re-holstered it, all the while working to get back upright.

The entire floor rippled yet a second time, though less violent than the first, forcing Vincent to hug the wall for support. He couldn't tell whether these tremors were coming from above or below anymore. Regardless of the source, the entirety of Shinra HQ just became all the more treacherous. Anymore and this concrete tower of countless tons would mark his premature grave.

Not yet.

Vincent moved on to the lower levels where he eventually entered a chamber with a bottomless, glowing vat. And across the grated pathway narrowly stretching over the pit lay dead or half-dead men covered in blood. They were plainly human compared to the others, for when he passed them by, not one lit up like a candle and tried to grab him. An unfair fight played out here, though truth be told they likely deserved it for crossing Sephiroth.

Then came the stench of burnt rubble wafting in from the next corridor.

The air carried a hollowness to it that unsettled the gunman; now more than ever felt like a good time to draw his rifle in the surety that his hunch was right. He approached the iron door knocked half off it hinges from the earlier rampaging tremors. Within the dimly lit hall, a few more bodies littered the floor, one groaning weakly while pinned under a fallen chunk of ceiling.

Vincent sadly shook his head. "Sephiroth…"

--

"I'm coming. Just around the bend. And I have a gift for you."

"Heh..."

He saw the few witless men and women spying him from doorways, some of them jammed with up to three people. They literally trembled. They weren't fighters; they were just spineless scholars, so they'd be easy prey for strangling like feeble birds. But the one he dragged down the hall would suffice for now. The king of the birds, Saristis Noah. He'd finally attained his trophy for persisting so far. Now he would present it and receive his just rewards.

Saristis himself was more injured than dead, yet hardly acted the part. He seemed to willingly let himself be dragged along, mumbling things Sephiroth found ungrateful but wouldn't punish the man for just yet.

"Stay back, Kit, Jenna, Emerson," he declared weakly. "The general means business…"

"Sar!" a woman exclaimed. "You'll be k-"

"Shh…"

At the end of the hall sat three iron doors. One brimmed with hunks of concrete while another had been painted with red bars and fitted with an electronic lock. The third went wholly unnoticed. Sephiroth swayed into a stupor at the sight of the first door to his left. Drawing in a long, slow breath, he yanked the redhead into the crook of his malformed arm, squeezing yelps out of him from the thorns digging into his flesh. Wordlessly, he motioned Saristis to open the door, which the dangling man did so with a reluctant hand. The keycard slipped seamlessly through the lock, then with a buzz and green light, the door yielded entry.

"Drana!" cried Sephiroth.

"It's been fun," Saristis croaked.

"You..."

The men warily edged into the chamber, all aglow with red and green. In the center a large glass canister practically throbbed. Sephiroth knew what it was that gave off that illusion, and it filled him with increasing bliss. His eyes rolled wildly in his head, taking in all the light he could muster. Meanwhile, Jenova more forcefully clawed her way across the rest of his slim bulk, but not even the agony she ignited could stop him.

Triumph won.

"Here I am. Now everything... can be right again. Come out."

Silence.

"My poor treasure. Fine, I'll help you, you piteous thing. Then we can go home."

Sephiroth tightly balled up a fist and drew his arm back. With a sharp inhalation, he launched it straight into the glass.

A small vacuum sprayed green light over every inch of the chamber, shimmering in the tumbling shards. Awestruck, Sephiroth let Saristis fall from his grasp and threw his arms out for the light to embrace him. His body burned through both pain and pleasure, happily ignorant of Jenova slashing beneath his skin. The swirling coolness of the ribbons of Lifestream threatened to whisk him away in the face of fully reclaiming his one and only prize. So with that, he struggled to gather himself and approach the broken tube.

Sephiroth sweetly offered his hand, whispering, "Yes, yes…"

-

Past the oxygen mask strapped to my face, I could see the faint silhouette of someone reaching out to me. I knew who that someone was, because in their presence a storm of thoughts and emotions hit me: anger, vengeance, sadness, desire. This was Sephiroth in all his bloody splendor. His essence was stained with the sight and smell of it. But for now, I'd accept all of it, all of him. I would just be glad to see him, glad to be free, and we could go home.

If only I could move.

But I was still held back. And I saw Sephiroth frown when my hand didn't meet his. It was so ghastly but wasn't why I hadn't taken it. I just could not lift a finger.

"Do I have to do everything myself?" he moaned, his voice like an echo in my head.

His blue clawed hands rose up towards me, in that rare childlike manner he worked so well. They didn't touch me but rather something over me, and pulled on it tight. Whatever it was tore at my skin, and I cried. Lifestream gushed and fluttered anxiously into the air, lighting up Sephiroth's blue and white face, his body wracked with surprise but never giving up on tearing apart what shackled me.

"Stop!" I screamed.

"Just a little more-"

"I can't!"

"Sephiroth, wait!"

Above Sephiroth's gray head I saw Vincent rush the chamber, his gun pointed straight ahead. His eyes sparked with lasting awe, then darted down to Saristis sprawled on the floor, clutching and fumbling with his broken glasses. Dismissing the scholar with a scoff, the gunman leapt for Sephiroth, locking him in a chokehold with his rifle.

"Vin…"

"Can't you see what you're doing?" he exclaimed, tugging as hard as he could to move the immovable man. "You're hurting her!"

"These machines are... !"

Sephiroth's eyes steamed and boiled a feral red from the filth Jenova spread inside his body. His being so close stung me with the alien's poison and my being so close made him suffer the blistering Lifestream as it fought to conquer the other. Vincent gazed up at me from over Sephiroth's shoulder, the movement of his lips so faint I nearly wouldn't have seen him trying to speak.

A final yank tossed Sephiroth backwards, holding a metal panel with cables that spat sizzling Lifestream on his skin. My body drooped sharply in place but I was still stuck; my arms remained stretched above my head in a steadfast grip. Almost there, but not quite. One more excruciating tug and I'd be perfectly set free.

Sephiroh shrugged Vincent off his back and crawled on hands and knees to the base of the container. He grabbed a part of me, his eyes as bright and curious as a demonic child's. "What's wrong with you? You're..."

"Oh dear, she's breaking up," mumbled Saristis from afar. "What poor constitution for a Weapon."

"V, Vincent... Sephiroth, I…"

"Lies. Do you think I'll let you do that? Do you think I will let you go so easily?" Gradually, Sephiroth pulled himself up into the tube with me, his knees scraping and crushing glass. He gripped the jagged edge and hovered over me, setting off a chain reaction of pain once more. Yet he wouldn't be moved. I saw it as I looked into his bleeding eyes, as I sensed his warmth mingle on my chest and belly. "I won't forgive you."

"I, I'm sorry…"

"You don't understand," he said, then clenching both of my arms. "If you leave me, then you have no right _but _to die, to disappear. I won't forgive you. I've found my Promised Land and I won't surrender it without a fight."

I let my eyes slip from his infested face and chest down to his bloody knees. It warmed me to hear him speak passionately about holding on to something he thought dear. The only problem was the fact that it wasn't me. Though I didn't want to sound jealous; I was in no position to be jealous. But from his mouth, I still wasn't a person so much as a doorway to power. A thing.

"Drana," he hissed, "what do you want from me? To say one of those magical little words to you? Ha. I couldn't. You wouldn't... understand anymore than I do."

"You... you can hear me think again?" I asked, strangely brightening.

"It hurts," he said, removing my oxygen mask, bending in close to my face. "Take Mother away. Because it's time to cut the cord."

"Sephi-- Aaah!"

Bursts of agony threw me into Sephiroth's arms and together we tumbled to the floor. Faint, I looked up to find my arm where it shouldn't have been, folded a foot away from his head. Vincent knelt close by, clasping the twitching hand and peering at me in veiled shock. For me, however, it wasn't that shocking. I'd had an arm sliced off, the other almost gnawed to a pulp; I'd survived those moments like another day in the park. But this, this felt a little different.

As the Lifestream wept above like never before, it occurred to me: Somewhere along the line, the redhead scholar must have messed something up. So now, I was…

"Maybe, this is it... ?"

"Drana," Vincent called quietly.

"I apologize," rumbled Sephiroth's voice through his chest, the tender regret oozing out of him into my face. I sighed, then labored to rise up on my other arm which dripped with Lifestream at every flex of nonexistent muscle. I frowned at him beneath me, his body unmoving save for an exhausted breath or two.

"Wh, what? You rarely... you rarely say sorry to me, you know that?" I told him.

"Heal me."

"You have no manners..." I sighed again, resting my head back on his chest. His heart took its time in projecting any life it had but was nonetheless a consolation to my ears. In contrast to the Lifestream's crying, of course, effortlessly managing to eclipse Sephiroth's heartbeat in severity.

"Drana," Vincent called again.

"Mm, so you came to help me, too?" I slurred dreamily. "Thank you…"

"I-"

"Stay away, dead man. This is our time."

"Our time…" Even knowing better, I had to smile. A slip of the tongue was easy to spot with him. True or false, I was comforted by it either way. To be surrounded by people who cared, indirectly or otherwise, almost made me immediately forget that I might not survive on my way out of here. Whatever 'not surviving' meant for someone like me. "... what happens next?"

His lips didn't even so much as twitch.

"Vincent, do you know...?" I asked.

No answer.

"I can't keep myself... together. I'm trying but, but it's not working. Aerith told me that if that ever happened, I would fade away, everything that made me... me... Did she mean forever? Aerith, did you mean forever? If I tried, c-could I come back? Talk to me…"

"Aerith?" Vincent gasped. "Is she with you just like Lucrecia?"

"You and your ghosts," Sephiroth chuckled lowly. "That stupid woman had followed me here like a worthless shadow. I wonder where she is now."

"You mean Lucrecia? She's actually here?" The hopefulness surging through the gunman's voice sounded a little misplaced. But I understood. The poor thing had been the joy he was searching for all along. Which, of course, begged the question: Where was she? Where was Aerith? I heard neither their voices nor sensed their presence. When I needed my questions answered the most, they mysteriously fled like the wind. Why did all the important people do that?

Wrapping me in his arms, Sephiroth started to sit up. I saw his eyes clamped shut, but the reddish stuff still bled freely from them. I brushed a few fingers against his cheeks, smearing the steaming filth across his face. "This…"

"Mother's terrified," he said with a smirk. "She dies with every touch you lay on me, every second you're near. It'll be beautiful, her last moments…"

"Jenova?"

"Drana, call Lucrecia here," Vincent blurted out. "I want to see her, even if she's just a ghost."

"I, I just want to sleep…"

"Gods…" The gunman sidled back on one knee, his brow harshly creased. Then his body perked. "Saristis is gone."

"So what?" Sephiroth snapped, pulling me closer between his drawn legs. "Now, Drana, Mother is weak. Kill her in one swift flick of the wrist."

"Th, this may be the last-"

"We'll see. Now."

Did soldiers always risk another to save themselves? Weren't they meant to risk themselves to protect another? Maybe that only applied to all soldiers but the fighting men of Shinra. I pondered in sadness as I held tight to Sephiroth with my only arm. For him I firmly wished the Calamity, Jenova, would go away forever. As the creature that once brought the world to its knees twice— now reduced to a simple disease pawing for life in supposedly one of the greatest soldiers of all time— I wished that she went away. I wanted her to leave him alone, I had to want to. And in response to my plea, Sephiroth's chest heaved excitedly against my face.

"The Lifestream-"

Lifestream gathered hastily to seal us off from the rest of the room in a wailing, radiant cyclone. Frightened, I peered up where the lighted tunnel spun obstructed against the ceiling, dissipating in frantic waves that scarred the rusty metal green. I saw Vincent trying to force his way through the blinding light, his figure nearly whipped away by the rage of air.

Sephiroth crushed me tighter to his body, growling, "I know what the Planet's doing. But you're staying with me! And if you don't…"

"You're coming with me," I said.

* * *

--

_From Sixth: I need infrastructure. Then I need to look up the word in the dictionary to be sure I'm using it right._


	33. Chapter 32: The End

_**32: The End**_

"_I'm sorry, I lied."

* * *

-----  
_

Vincent stared distantly into the ceiling while lying motionless on the floor. A luminous ring of green lingered there, where he supposed the Lifestream had made its escape. Among other things. Meanwhile, somewhere in the background he could hear a commotion, of feet shuffling, voices shouting, clatters and crashes. No doubt Saristis's lackeys were trying to escape, too, or were already in the process of escaping, something he wouldn't have blamed them for doing. But as for he himself...

"Mr. Valentine. I jeopardize my utterly valuable life and limb coming here and... what happens? Saristis gets away. But don't worry; hopefully the WRO's taking care of that right now."

"... what?" Vincent squinted up to see a finely dressed figure in white looming over him, accompanied by several others dressed in stark but equally fine contrast. He abruptly grimaced at these former adversaries, letting his hand reach impulsively for his gun.

"Hey, chill, man, do we look like we wanna fight?"

"I had to have known," he said. "If the Turks are alive, then so is their master, Rufus Shinra. But apparently not quite immaculate…"

"You caught me," Rufus said and jokingly shrugged. The smug cripple leisurely approached the broken canister sitting in the room's center, meditating on the mess before turning back to Vincent. "Hm. Looks like our special lady isn't here, either. Am I to assume Saristis managed to whisk her off yet again? I swear-"

"No. They just... disappeared."

"Really." The pensive blond rocked twice on his heels, then returned to the gunman's side with a boyishly condescending look. "You know there's a Weapon outside?"

"What!" Vincent flew upright in the expectant shock that Rufus and his Turks were waiting for.

"I'll take that as a no," he nodded, his lips a sloping grin. "Yes, there is quite the Weapon hanging over Midgar. But it hasn't moved. We're confused, to say the least; as confused as the majestic yet slack-beaked Epiolnis watching for rain, not thinking it'll drown when it pours a few days later. Some birds are funny like that."

The gunman grimaced in silence.

"The people of Edge and Kalm have thrown themselves into instant panic," Tseng interjected, pulling a cell phone from his breast pocket. He lowered it into Vincent's wary hand, then pointed at its tiny glowing screen. "Take a look: This image was recorded about an hour ago, at Kalm. First, there are three bursts of what we assume to be Lifestream from intermittent sectors surrounding Midgar. Next, it gradually materializes into the shadow you see here. The biomechanical structure we've observed up close resembles any and all previously documented Weapons. The only thing lacking at the moment is hostility. Still... people are concerned, they're scared."

"Is this what you called...?"

"Whoa-ho, did I hear right?" The red-haired Turk strolled up to linger around Tseng's back, hands in his pants' pockets and balancing on his heels. "Someone summoned that? Sweet."

"It's not 'sweet,' Reno," warned the female Turk. "That thing could kill us all. I hate to say this but we don't exactly have the firepower of an entire army anymore. Not to face a thing like that, anyways."

"The WRO ain't any better," Reno grunted. "Unless they had something like Sister Ray... But they're way too eco-friendly for that, huh?"

Rufus glanced towards the ceiling, taking a moment to watch the glowing ring overhead fluctuate between light and darkness. Nodding, he dropped his gaze back down to Vincent and motioned towards the door with his cane. "I suggest we go topside; is that alright with you, Mr. Valentine?"

Vincent broke his silence with a small sound of agreement, getting quickly to his feet and dusting off his cape and pants. Reno, Rude, Tseng, and Elena shuffled out of the chamber before him and Rufus, with Reno politely holding the door ajar like a bellhop. The gunman glared unthinkingly at the young, once-president of Shinra, but considering his diplomacy in the nightmare so far, he was left with no choice. He'd cooperate for as long as it led him to a fitting resolution.

--

Reno whistled cheerfully as he piloted the unmarked helicopter from Shinra HQ's front step to the skies above. The Turk casually ascended along the ongoing length of a ribbed cylinder spiraling down into Midgar's wreckage, wide as the breadth of the tower it hugged. Between the ribs, a faint green glare ebbed and flowed with a resoundingly hollow groan that filled the air.

With that, it was decided.

This was part of the alleged Weapon floating over the ruined city.

Even at the copter's current altitude, all Vincent could see was the monster's complex silhouette and streaks of light flashing in and out of it. This Weapon would be the largest one of anything he'd ever see in life. Now he just hoped he wouldn't end up having to fight it, because the damned things were about as meaty as the Planet itself, and considerably more vicious.

"Next stop: The Weapon's fuckin' head," Reno sang.

"Reno, be careful," Elena grouched. "This isn't flight practice, we're scaling a gods-forsaken Weapon."

"Oh, don't tell me what to do. Do _you_ know how to fly this thing? C'mon, let's switch seats and see what you can do. C'mon, I dare ya. Right now."

"Alright, alright, I can't fly a chopper, I know. Gods."

"Reno, shut up and keep flying," Tseng declared rather firmly from the copter's rear.

"Always riding my ass…"

"Wha-chish," Rude sounded.

"Oh for the love of…"

Vincent sat back against the seat and exasperatedly huffed. He let one tired eye roll in Rufus's direction and muttered, "The Turks were never this fussy when I was a member."

"I prefer to think of them as having... immense character," the blond replied, grinning dimly.

"... so what's your pitch on taking care of this thing?" the gunman queried.

"Oh, there's no pitch," Rufus shrugged. "At least... not until it makes a move."

"So we just let it sit here?"

"The WRO are looking into matters."

"How would you know what the WRO's doing?"

"Hey, someone has to keep up on current events," Rufus answered, his grin broadening.

"Too convenient," Vincent aired curtly. "...whatever."

The gunman straightened his back and peered out of the window, studying the mounting shape of the slim but colossal Weapon. Glancing down, he saw its body rock imperceptibly on three of those gigantic tentacles, and near invisible threads of light extended from its tentacles and tower-like arms. He let his eyes wander, noticing that the threads stretched out in every direction around Midgar but not to where they ended. Vincent blinked then craned his neck up to gaze at the shimmering wings splayed beneath the cloudy sky.

"Hold on," Vincent perked.

"What is it, Mr. Valentine?" Elena asked.

"This might be the final Weapon Lucrecia theorized from Hojo's old reports. Like an ark…"

"Ark?" Rufus cocked his head curiously to one side, questioning. "You mean like something to save people from a disaster? ... Does its appearance mean a disaster's coming?"

"Drana disappeared and that thing arrived…" Vincent thumbed his chin while deep in thought. "No, I know Drana's special but she can't be, that... this thing would..."

"I love it when people mumble to themselves, it's oddly exciting," Rufus said, leaning into Tseng's shoulder.

"Indeed." The long, dark haired Turk nodded in compliance, meanwhile thoughtfully scratching around the tilak in the middle of his forehead.

"Rufus, it's a Weapon," the gunman told him, cutting to the quick. "You experienced firsthand that they don't work for the people, but the Planet. So this 'ark' won't save the lives of humanity so much as it'll save the Planet's life."

"What does that mean!" Elena exclaimed, close to falling in Rude's lap. "You can't save the Planet without saving us too. Does that mean it'll take the Planet's life only? Won't that kill it instead?"

"No, Elena, look." Rufus pointed out the window, drawing lines across the glass. "Wings. The way it's built suggests it'll just fly somewhere else, with the Planet's life in tow. It's quite ingenious when you think about it. And bittersweet."

"But then, what'll happen to everybody left behind?"

"Stupid question is stupid," said Reno from the pilot's seat.

As the Weapon's halo-crowned head rose to meet the insistent helicopter, Vincent leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his face dark. With everything said so far, there remained but one solution: They had to kill that Weapon. He never did feel quite right destroying the Planet's protectors, but their idea of protecting meant wiping out the entire human race. It led him to wonder if the Planet cared more about itself than its children. But, understandably so, it'd merely been taking steps to ensure its own survival above all else, with this particular beast as the ultimate last resort.

_It's a little premature, _Vincent thought sourly. _Drana... shouldn't have to be the end of the world. If she'd just been left in peace… But then, who's to say that with Sephiroth, it'd... Hmph; faced with nothing but a lose-lose situation._

"That is one butt-ugly mug," Reno voiced, thankfully intruding on Vincent's reflections.

"I really feel like we should be taking advantage of this…" The female Turk fidgeted in her seat next to Rude, inciting a look of annoyance on the silent man's face. After a whole minute of squirming, she jumped up and scrambled into the co-pilot's seat, wringing distressful noises out of Reno.

Vincent sighed in reasonable defeat. "... where did you go?"

"Shit! T-That thing moved! I'm getting us the fuck out of here!"

"What? Reno, keep it steady!"

"Holy fuck, something flew out!"

"You bastard, keep it steady!"

"_You _keep it steady!"

--

The Weapon bowed its haloed head and shook its arms, driving winds to cleave through the upper skeleton of Midgar. Beams and slabs of rock flipped like pancakes into the air, next to be carried off on the gravity wells born from the uprising wings. The silvery green threads of light snapped and exploded into waves of sparkles, battling for the clouds amongst the airborne debris.

The poor little helicopter flew for its life to Midgar's outskirts, spinning excitedly on the ripping gales.

All the while, calmly, the monstrous beast drew in its armored chest, slightly bent back its head and heaved a guttural quake out of its tapered belly. From the Weapon's mouth, in a great failing arc, sprung a blob of Lifestream that sunk like a stone through the air. The furious winds knifed shards and ribbons off the falling mass until it was no larger than the monster's lazy fist, ending with a slap into a tangle of toppled pillars.

A melodious roar pierced the skies and echoed for miles on end, lifting the Weapon from its perch atop the ruined Shinra tower. The surrounding gravity wells spun funnels of rubble up and away, seeming to slice the low-flung clouds to pieces, but tumbled back to earth in reaching their zeniths, only to be tossed up again. Between the storm-like clamors embracing the Weapon, one of its tentacles idly snaked up from the depths of Midgar, bloated and dripping with Lifestream, soon to be joined by the rest.

--

"Damn, is it doing what I think it's doing?" Rufus shouted as he sat secured by both Tseng and Rude on each side.

"See, I told you, boss!" Elena screamed. "We should've gotten the jump on it. Now we're doomed!"

"B-bullshit!" Reno grunted, straining to keep control over the helicopter. "I haven't gotten laid in about a month, I'm not about to die before I get some much needed tail!"

"We had... some good times together, boss," Rude uttered in broken un-emotion.

Vincent braced himself against the door, locked in a mesmerized gaze with a little something caught on the other side of the cracked window. Of all things, in the middle of a storm of rock and metal, in the face of the Planet's final Weapon…

A feather.

There were suddenly a lot of explanations he could make from its appearance. A good omen or a bad omen; birds that had merely gotten caught in the funnels and pulverized into nothing but sad puffs of feathers; a stray pinion from the Weapon's wings themselves; or a simple figment of his imagination. Of the last, the gunman didn't really see himself as one to imagine feathers flying out of nowhere, not without reason, but it'd surely be a soothing sight before his death.

"Reno, please, get us out of here," Elena begged, hugging the redhead's shoulder tight.

"Shit, I'm doing the best I can!"

"I don't want to die here…!"

"This isn't how I wanted to spend my last moments," Vincent whispered to himself. "If I could have seen you one more time…"

"Boss, the radar's going crazy from major pressurization in the area," Reno yelled through clenched teeth.

"And just what does that mean?" Tseng demanded.

"Hell if I know, but I'm still gettin' outta here!"

--

He heard a wordless song humming in his ear, the kind of song he guessed mothers would sing to their children. But he was not a child. So why did he hear it? Despite all the pain, he wanted, needed, no comfort. Nevertheless, it somehow soothed him. In the days when his death was a slow and depressing dissolution into the Planet's womb, for he had just too much pride, a song like this was what he'd listen to, commingled with his hate for those of the living. Back then, it wasn't so soothing; it mocked him for everything he had done in the name of rightful heir to the Planet.

For everything he'd done up until now, why be sung a kind, little melody?

He dreamt of crushing it bit by bit with his fingers, if only because it brought comfort he wouldn't be able to keep. But now... now, did he still have fingers for crushing? Jenova and the Lifestream had torn his body apart, feuding over who would have him in its favor. It felt like the very same drama that killed him the first time, with a slightly different cause, actors, and end.

A stab to the chest sent his dreaming body into throes. He could feel his heart suddenly tethered back to the physical world, wrenching knifelike blood into it. What could hurt like this? What could force him out of dreaming?

_Of course... Life._

Sephiroth gagged and coughed, until he felt his throat stave off the sticky coldness clinging inside. The air he took in tasted old but oddly sweet as it charged his body with the sting of life, renewing the strength in his raspy throat.

"Drana!"

No response came to his cry but the echo of his own voice and the raging roar of winds ravaging the skies. Instantly moved to anger, his brow furrowed so that the light behind his eyelids crunched and crinkled. He was blind, and stunned by this, his bristling fingers tried to dig their way into his sockets.

"Where are you!" he bellowed. "You…"

Each scrape, scoop, and painful grunt brought Sephiroth's vision closer to clarity. Once he could see, he'd commence a new life full of hate. His calls had gone unanswered. No one came to his aid. And such responses pined for nothing but his hatred. It would be a sad life, but fulfilling all the same, sealing up the void that now plagued him in an instant.

"I hate you. No one abandons me. I abandon them, I do... I will hunt you-"

"Drana's right, you're a big brat. How can you condemn her for _all_ the things she's done for you, giving you the care you never had? You're a... dope for all your hate. But then... what do I know? And then, would you even listen?"

"Yes... Even I can't condone the bad things you say about her. You're terrible, absolutely terrible. She meant nothing but good. She accepted your abuse and still gave you what you wanted. Don't do this."

"Ghosts... have no right to speak," gasped Sephiroth. "Least of all to me..."

Admittedly, he felt skinless. Those words the voices spoke in sincerity cut his naked muscle to the bone like a knife through warmed butter. Humiliated, his body shivered; he would gladly kill himself if guilt ever got the best of him, which it attempted to do right now. It had always been a scarce feeling he possessed; he rarely faltered, rarely had a second thought. Guilt was a disgusting thing that would only kill him first than rule him.

So how could this happen?

"Mother, Drana. You two... have really put me in a sad state." Sephiroth chuckled lightly, coughing once from the cold trying to smother his ribs. "For a time, I was perfect. Now I'm this... human? I'm this human thing? Heh. Then I want my hatred; I _lovingly _invite it to rule me, to sustain me just like the Planet's purest lifeblood coursing through my veins. I don't want to live without it. Where I wouldn't be whole…"

"You're so stubborn…"

"Drana!" His chest spiked into the air, painfully yanking his head and arms after it. He sluggishly slumped into a less than upright position, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of his surroundings. "No, it's... still just you, the sweet ghost with the smart mouth."

"Smart mouth? That almost hurts."

"I refuse to have my Promised Land taken from me!" he snarled heatedly. "I want it back!"

"Well, at least you can sing a different tune now than world destruction if you really wanted to… Good. Keep wishing for Drana. Keep dreaming for something greater than you. But remember: While Drana may be a bigger part of the Planet than any human, she's _still _a person. Treat her like one."

"Is lecturing all you ghosts can do?" Sephiroth said with a black look. "You bore me. I have to find her."

"We want to get _through _to you."

He labored quietly to his feet without knowing how much a protest his body would really scream. At the instant his knees bent, fire slashed through them, knocking him back down. Gasping for breath, he accepted his pain and lay there, thinking. Was he saved, or wasn't he? His vision still blurred, but now, he could see just a little of the broken city all around him falling to pieces.

"We tried. I guess it's up to Drana now. So, goodbye, Sephiroth, but as usual, we'll be watching. C'mon, let's go."

"Sephiroth, please make it through…"

* * *

--

_From Sixth: I lied, too._


	34. Epilogue: to Future Days

_**Epilogue: One Day to Future Days

* * *

**_

-----

The Weapon's phosphorescent wings stretched out to their true span miles wider than Midgar itself, drawing down the hapless clouds in eerie attraction. Twisting indifferently below it, the beast's armored tentacles lit up like torches from the garnered Lifestream, sprinkling the city ruins with their embers. A solemn roar echoed as the Weapon finally started a slow, winding ascent into the parted clouds.

Sephiroth grudgingly shrank at the invisible pull on the life still fixed to his body. He beheld the faintest wisps of it rising from him, singing odd sighs of release that nearly slipped his ears. The spectacle exhausted him just watching it. It was much too soon. In the departing flight of the massive creature in the sky, his heart faded. It couldn't have been possible, but it was. No thing was supposed to have the power to kill him, not like this, much less now, but there it reigned. He thought that perhaps now the Planet would finally be rid of him, as its grand, old adversary.

The warring winds didn't touch him, but the rubble it crumbled overhead draped him with dust. Like something discarded at the bottom of a giant's box. Shameful, yet fitting for his demise.

"At least," Sephiroth started to say, lifting his burning arm into his line of sight. Beyond the ragged remains of his coat's sleeve and haze seeping from his pores, his arm was normal. Not a hint of Jenova remained to take his body. But the aura of light embracing his limb, white as his skin, unnerved him. He feared it'd take him before Weapon did. "At least I can disappear without dear, failing Mother shadowing my every step...

"Free. Haha... ha."

* * *

--

_I have a confession to make._

_I haven't been true to myself. I've... actually been quite selfish. And I've done something that I know some will think is a misuse of power... Planet, Aerith, Lucrecia, everyone here with me now, I'm sorry. I did this for me; for once, I really did something for myself. And I'll have a clear conscience when this is over, even though I understand what could happen if my actions are mistaken, and instead, disaster threatens the Planet._

_It's his choice, too._

_We're bound together. Sad and pleasant, yet true, whether destiny called for it or not. My decision's made. Sometimes, through thick and thin, you want to dedicate yourself to someone. My love is unconditional. I think that's the only unselfish thing about me right now. If I'm doing what I think is best and it helps someone in need, then I'm satisfied._

_If it helps him... I'm satisfied._

_Oh. Um... I'm really scared. I want to be able to go back. I don't care how long it has to take. That's why I'll make him wait until then, but... I want to go back._

_Let me go back, not just for me, not just for them... Him. We're not done yet. Aerith, you put me in charge. So I want to finish what I started._

_Thank you for listening. Thank you. I'll be praying now…_

--

* * *

--

Sudden rays of Lifestream sprouted forth from the depths of Midgar, shooting debris into the air as they converged upon Weapon drifting higher and higher from the earth. Like a cage, the rays formed around the monster, perfectly halting its ascent.

As soon as they appeared, they vanished in little more than the blink of an eye. The dazed beast howled before its brilliant wings disintegrated and fell to earth in great cascades of Spirit Energy. Shortly thereafter, its tentacles ignited with the Planet's life force, burning away the segmented plates, leaving behind a glitter of green like falling ash. The Weapon lifted its towering limbs heavenward as if beckoning for space. But they, too, sparked at the tips of their claws, kindling into clouds of Lifestream that ruthlessly showered down upon Midgar.

The soil, mortar, and steel trembled with life. The rush of the Planet's lifeblood melted into the earth, driving a force up in its place.

Green.

In wild swishes of sound and color, lush, abundant green animated the scorched land, overturning the dead slums. Sprouts empowered by the Planet shattered rock and demolished the toppled metal towers to be swallowed up by lesser trees. Weapon's fizzling spirit sprayed Shinra headquarters so fiercely that the upper floors crumpled like paper under the impending growth. As if on cue, mottled yellow sunlight beamed down through the eternal gray overcast, greeting the overwhelmingly newborn life in silence.

The fading beast let out a final wail before its halo-crowned head exploded in a blast of white light and Lifestream.

Sephiroth watched the helicopter plunge from the sky, grimacing at the sound of a boom somewhere in the distance.

Good riddance.

The thing had been annoying, anxiously circling the skies while the windstorms tossed it this way and that. And now, apart from the constant noises of forest springing up all around and beneath him, as well as the liquid rain of Lifestream drenching him to the bone, he had some peace and quiet. Just when he thought he was going to suffer a true death, this, this occurred. The monster in the sky turned to rain and completely transformed the nasty scar of Midgar into some wondrous burgeoning entity.

His body rested comfortably in a still-growing bush of delicate white flowers, though they had no scent at all. But that detail he laid aside with ease. As a matter of fact, he laid aside the entire green earth surrounding him as nothing more than a distraction.

"Ah…" He sighed, letting his mouth hang open so that Lifestream pooled in his throat, slowly gulping it down in a subtle rise of his chin and chest. The lasting pains in his limbs were soothed away in an instant, but Sephiroth hadn't thought to rise from his bed of leaves and flowers. He merely chuckled at the sky, full of immediate understanding. "I know it's you. Are you blessing me, your favorite beast... ?"

The electrifying rain pooled in his open eyes, overflowed, and spilled from them as though his own tears. But there wasn't anything he'd cry for. So it seemed, the Planet cried in his place, quite possibly for nothing. Or, if anything, the newfangled beauty brimming here in this old city.

"I have no home to go to anymore," said Sephiroth in a mired hush. He took a deep breath, still not quite smelling the sweet scents of revived earth. "No matter. New Midgar, welcome me...

"Let me sleep for a while. I'll... need energy for one last task…"

* * *

-----

_About a month later…_

"I... still can't believe it. Midgar, like this. Aerith's church, ruined."

Cloud perched grimly on a tree trunk which bent forward onto the splintered pews of the church's left side. The clinging moss threatened to dampen the seat of his pants, but that was far too trivial a thing to grump over. The fact of the matter was simply this: Aerith's church had been practically destroyed, and it pained him to see it like this. The lonely little chapel had braved Meteorfall and ended up with just another hole in the roof; but to finally fall victim to the same green earth that everyone wanted to save...

Tifa stood next to the moping blond while leaning on a single crutch, a similar look of disappointment plaguing her round face. Eventually, she blinked in Vincent's direction as he squatted amongst the miniature meadow replacing Aerith's flowerbed before the altar.

"It still took you long enough to get here after I had everybody call you," Tifa remarked.

"I was up north," he replied soberly. "It was hard trying to get a ship here. There were more monsters terrorizing the routes than mariners could handle."

"Oh."

"So," Cloud started, "everything happened here because of that woman. Drana. Right? Where is she?"

"No one knows," Tifa said, hobbling from her companion's side. She moved towards Vincent, to offer a bit of company to the silent one.

"What about her kidnappers? What happened to them?"

"Slipped through our fingers once again. Except for a few personnel, a lot of the militiamen they had employed, a few that turned human torches..."

"Right. And Sephiroth."

"Yeah..." Tifa bit her lip in reluctance, gazing down at the top of Vincent's still, raven-haired head.

When Cloud at last returned to the continent, nearly all his friends had gathered together to bring him to Midgar, to witness a dramatic spectacle: the city of sin transformed, from a wreck of twisted metal and death to a tower of forest in the middle of a wasteland. Amongst the sea of green, pieces of the final Weapon that fell rather than turn to Lifestream jutted like standing monuments to the beast, its halo, of the worthiest note, wedged into the side of Shinra's tower.

Revisiting the thought of Sephiroth, Cloud had been led to what he dutifully remembered as the Sector 5 slums after his arrival. Here was where his old enemy lay in a nest of vines and flowers, his face completely overgrown and obscured; there, he and his friends stood over the motionless man like curious mourners at a stranger's funeral. Although, out of everyone who attended the pseudo service, Vincent had been the only one to wear an expression even remotely mournful. As to why he looked that way, Cloud didn't venture asking, and he didn't bother Tifa to try, either. Since then but a few days ago, the group's dark companion took to being as silent as ever, though gracious enough to spare a word every now and then to show he wasn't just dead on his feet.

Now wasn't one of those times. Instead of a word, Vincent's responses were simple movements, thoughtless gestures. Grunts and little clicks of the tongue. Cloud scoffed but he knew that given the time, he'd open back up. For now, he'd leave him be and grieve for Aerith's church.

"I've been wondering this, a lot," Tifa sounded, earning a tilt of heads in her direction. "What... what happens now? Drana, those guys who kidnapped her, Sephiroth, Weapon, Midgar, everything? Do... do we just take all this in stride?"

She hobbled back to Cloud's side and took a seat next to him on the tree, pushing the crutch off to her left. Bending over, she ran her hands down her long, bandaged leg to her ankle and sighed herself securely into that position. The blond watched her endearingly then frowned.

"I think we just take it in stride and get on with our lives," he confessed. "Just like usual, I guess. If those guys show up again... we'll get them for hurting Drana."

"Hehe, it's funny," Tifa said, her giggle muffled by her knees pressed into her cheeks. "We barely knew her. But, listen to you, sounding like some avenger. S, sounding like Vincent, even... Now, I know why he wanted to help her so bad but, you, Cloud…"

"I don't know if I'd bother asking about that, because I don't really know," Cloud answered. "And I don't like to think about it either…"

"Wow, I can't ask anyone anything, huh? When the mysterious maiden of Sephiroth vanishe... we're suddenly emotional zombies."

"Tifa," Cloud whispered, harshly launched from his seat on the hunched tree. "That isn't-"

"The case, I know, but still," the woman huffed. "She hasn't affected me like you, Vincent, and... Sephiroth. So I don't quite understand this little... guardianship thing you guys have going. What did she do? Could, could it be... Aer... ? No, it couldn't. "

"Like I said, it's no use asking me."

Plainly unsatisfied, Tifa sat up straight and glared past Cloud to Vincent. Even knowing her gestures would go unseen, she pointed squarely at the back of their quiet companion's head. "Vincent, you knew the most about her. How does she make you feel? And don't count Lucrecia into any of it."

"Wait, what about Lucrecia?" asked a puzzled Cloud.

"Not to air dirty laundry, but our prince of unrequited love here thought Drana could call ghosts. And so…"

"I didn't know you were a blabbermouth, Tifa," Vincent announced, his low voice soaked in husky darkness.

"Anything to get you to talk," she retorted.

"... I don't _want _to talk about it."

"Okay, so no one wants to talk about it," she voiced in defeat. "We'll just look at this as a miracle, plain and simple. And we ignore the trivialities of Drana disappearing, those scientist guys disappearing, Sephiroth... er sleeping, and all this other stuff. I feel _very _enlightened. Now, what you do guys say to a little booze?"

* * *

----

The transition from death to life had always been so tormenting but now, something had changed. There rose a new flame, far brighter, far hotter, far more powerful than anything ever felt to date. Out of nowhere it appeared, just a tiny flickering light in the corner, so small and weak that even the faintest breath could snuff it forever, but as the days passed, it grew.

And the time came.

* * *

----

In the deserts north of the Corel Mountains, where nameless nomadic villages lived on the edge of civilization, Saristis Noah endured his failure. It was, however, a failure not left empty-handed. In exchange for his wounds, which miraculously hadn't killed him, he and his colleagues had stolen away with several canisters. The saving graces of their so-called fool's errand. Holding these, his dreams could still survive to fruition.

Dreams too good to dream.

The stifling, arid heat couldn't keep his high spirits down, even while he sat bedridden guzzling water as if he'd been starved of it for weeks. Besides the canisters, he still had his confidants, except for one. Emerson defected eagerly, but not before dooming Saristis to certain catastrophe, throwing the redhead in achingly absolute stitches. Evvey, on the other hand, stayed with and defended his superior like a loyal puppy, as did Aridale, ever the opportunist she presented herself and a woman attracted to the man full of that mighty Shinra ambition. It was the best two out of four he'd managed to keep in the end.

Saristis played on a mountain of thoughts while he recuperated, confined to bed in his measly tent. What would he do with this precious Lifestream just itching to be used? He'd pondered using it on himself, to see if it'd heal his injuries, but the chance couldn't be taken. He wouldn't go the way Hojo did with Jenova's cells. Yet, he felt the urge. To be something a little greater than human.

"Not yet," he thought aloud to himself. "Not until I know more."

A single breeze pelted the front of his tent, coaxing the cloth to flap inward then fall still again. Startled only slightly, the redhead scholar slumped down into his sheets, off the side of his bed. He snatched up a glowing green canister in his hands and cradled it almost like a baby.

"Hm, maybe... maybe Kit and Emerson were right." Saristis glowered briefly, still pondering. "Heh, no, what's wrong with me? It's not like me to think so dourly, much less second guess myself until proven otherwise. In my hands rests the power of life and death beyond imagination. Heh…"

"Saristis!"

Aridale sailed hands first into the tent, plummeting to the dirt floor in a cloud of dust. The bedridden Saristis jumped at the sight of her, struggling for the foot of the bed. He peered down at the woman lying in a heap, her hands gripping the sheets. She was a total mess, clothes ripped and hair matted with blood, but from what, he had no idea.

"Sar…"

"J, Jenna, what happened to you?" he asked breathlessly. "What's going on?"

"It's…" The injured scholar grabbed both her arms and helped her onto the bed, pulling the tangled mess of hair out of her face. His fingers came away with blood, acting fast to wipe themselves on the front of his awkward looking smock-shirt.

"Jenna, pull yourself together," Saristis commanded softly. "What is it? Is it monsters?"

"No," she croaked, pointing ahead. "He's..."

"He? He who? What? Finish what you were saying."

"Saristis Noah. In the beginning, you were so hard to find. But now…"

Black gloved hands pushed aside the tent's flaps, allowing hot white sunlight to briefly flood the interior. The disoriented couple pulled close together, near unaware of how intimate their embrace really was. They found a comfort in the pointlessness of it, as humans tended to do. Saristis could almost feel himself want to laugh, a habit he wished he'd drop for once.

"I, it's been a while," greeted the nervous redhead.

A menacing shade parted the sunlight, ushering in the Shinra-born angel of death. Emerson's curse on him had just come true, in an absurdly wrong place at an absurdly wrong time. Still brittle from the last onslaught weeks ago, he would break like a twig, crumble like a dry, fragile leaf underfoot. And if he gunned for a chance at his materia hidden under the bed, there was no mistaking that he'd die quickly for trying. The odds were definitely against him.

"I hear them whimpering," Sephiroth uttered in a dulcet tone. He slid one black-booted foot in before fully entering the tent and presenting his customary leather-bound physique. With him came a gentle hum like a power generator on an idle night. His whole veneer radiated a passive bloodlust, glorified further by glinting streaks along the front of his coat. As he approached the bed, Saristis caught the slight metallic odor of blood stinging his nose. Had it just been Jenna's or more?

"I…"

"Drana and the Planet, their whimpers… You know what they tell me?" Sephiroth bent forward into Saristis and Aridale's faces, his feline eyes glowing as plainly as the sun. Jenna buried her face sharply into her superior's chest, forcing him to flinch out of accidental shame. The bloodstained man saw this, sweetly piping up, "Today... you die."

"M-my dear general, you can kill us," the scholar murmured, "but... where would the point in that? Y-you'll only get your hands dirty and you wouldn't have accomplished a thing in the long run. Why? Because as visionaries, w-we'll always have successors."

"Your little lackey with the glasses doesn't have a way with words like you," Sephiroth remarked. "Of course, with a broken neck, you can't say very much."

"Kit?" Saristis stiffened abruptly. "He's…?"

"I saw it," Jenna said lowly, choking back a disgusted moan.

"The woman here is very slippery," their invader hissed, slipping a hand under the lady scholar's head. She writhed but didn't dare move anymore than that. His fingers gripped the nape of her neck, the leather all at once hot, rough and smooth on her skin. "I wish I could spare her."

"Saristis, do something," she pleaded. "Please…"

"Jenna…"

"Sar, I love you, okay? Screw propriety, I can say it now because— Aaaagh!"

In a heave, Aridale vomited thick, dark blood into her superior's lap, convulsing as Sephiroth dragged her from his arms by the neck. Too stunned to react, the bedridden scientist let her go freely and watched her flop onto the floor at Sephiroth's feet, looking quite the poor, discarded doll leaking blood which it shouldn't leak. Compared to Saristis' own, the man's face was just a dark, angry husk focused solely on him.

"I-I-"

"Back then, I protected and served people like you," he told Saristis, peering dangerously close into his frozen eyes. Like a monster, he bared his pearly white teeth, yet only chuckled, "But guess what? Those days have been long over. So now I shall serve you on a plate to my glorious Drana, to the Planet at large. In hopes that she'll be mine again."

Sacrifice? He was to be offered up as a sacrifice? As though a moebius strip, this idea of a final fate raced over and over in his mind. As a scientist, Saristis had no problem sacrificing a part of himself, like a social life, in the name of research. But to have another take his life in their own hands and toss it to the winds? It was laughable. It was mortifying. It shamed him. He was alone now. He'd given up Quelin, he'd been renounced by Emerson, and Aridale and Evvey were on their way to being one with the Planet. He was on his own now, staring Sephiroth down like the angel of death he was, awaiting the ultimate lights out.

"Well then... I'll see your precious Drana on the other side," Saristis said, smiling and closing his eyes against the bloody hands advancing upon him.

"When we're done with you... no, you won't."

* * *

----

* * *

--

_From Sixth: _The Other One-Winged Angel (also, or now known as Patchwork Wings... or whatever it will be in the future, if not that) _on its own felt simply resolute. _BWG _put __meat on a bony relationship and __opens one last door. I think it's up to me on whether or not I should shut it or walk right on through. I have an idea for a resolution... I think, someday sooner or later...that idea'll come true._

_Lil factoid: Drana's been with me for a whole decade, maybe more. Hah. What an old character. And she WAS a Mary Sue in the beginning, if, I'm hoping, she isn't so much now anymore. Hot fuck, it was bad. Pardon my French. I was a terrible person. Haha, okay folks, you've been great, who, where and whenever you are. Thanks._

_Just so you know, this isn't the end._

**_P.S.:_**

**_A NEW message, circa 2010 from Sixth. It is as follows:_**

_So I'd been editing this offhandedly and discreetly for a few weeks. Why? Well, having seen my email inbox with the amount of faves/reviews and crap I'd gotten in the span of two to four months, _more _than I'd ever seen in like years, well I was urged to do something that wasn't more ineptitude for once. So anyways... Being that this fic is old as fuck and I haven't the energy to do a full fledged rewrite right now, I'm going to leave it at that because there's only so much I can do sometimes, and I... want to be able to move on to something else. Namely, the "sequel" to this. Far flung it will be, but whatever._

_Just wanted to clean this up a bit because, gods, it was so... icky. Gods.  
_

_Also, other things. Hopefully better things._

_I should get a beta. God damn... Social ineptitude, how you torment me. That and self-consciousness. Ass._


End file.
